Hobbits, Hovercrafts and Headaches (Part 2)
by snake eyes and sissies
Summary: Part 2 of Hobbits, Hovercrafts and Headaches - an mpreg story featuring various Johnny Depp characters. It's also the sequel to St. Joseph's Shelter for Men. Again, it's mpreg. You've been warned.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: As the summary states, this is a continuation of Hobbits, Hovercrafts and Headaches part 1, which is the sequel to St. Joseph's Shelter for Men. Again, this is an mpreg story. If you don't like mpreg, don't read it.

Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this.

Ch. 25

"I don't think you're right," Ichabod said as Ashley read off the results of the pregnancy test that she'd given him.

"Blood tests don't lie," She replied. "You're definitely pregnant. A little less than a month along, actually."

"But it's not possible. I took the pills every day, I never missed them!"

Ashley sighed. "Ichabod, sometimes they just don't work. It's rare but it happens. Maybe it's just fate."

"I don't believe in fate," Ichabod said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, then it's just how it is. I'm not sure what else to tell you. Do you want Dr. Schnabel to look at the test results, too?"

"Yes."

Ashley fought rolling her eyes, but took the test results out of the room with her. She brought Dr. Schnabel in a moment later.

"Hi, Ichabod. How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. I'm throwing up all the time, and I'm tired all the time, and this nurse is telling me that I'm pregnant."

The doctor nodded, and looked over the test results. "The test says that you are pregnant."

"It's. Not. Possible!" Ichabod said, tapping his knee after each word.

Dr. Schnabel sighed. He wanted to point out how childish Ichabod was acting, but realized that the man was probably just stressed out and having a hard time expressing it.

"I can give you another test if you like."

"You mean… another blood test?" Ichabod began to pale. He hadn't done so well with the last test.

"It's the most accurate way."

"I… um. No more needles."

The doctor wasn't really listening, though. Instead he was rummaging through one of the cabinets. He pulled out a rather large needle, and held it up.

"I'm sorry, did you say that you did or did not want another test?" He asked.

Ichabod couldn't even reply. He was unconscious within a few seconds.

00

When Ichabod woke up, he was lying in a bed, in the dark. He squinted, trying to figure out where he was. It took a bit for the memories to come back to him; being at Dr. Schnabel's office, the needle, the pregnancy tests… the doctor must've put him in a bed when he'd fainted.

Ichabod sighed. He really did not want to accept that it was possible that he was, in fact, pregnant. There had to be something else wrong with him. Something. Maybe he simply had a stomach virus, and that was why he was getting so sick all the time.

Suddenly, Ichabod felt something that he had not felt in quite a long time. It was a very painful sensation, like extreme pressure in his lower stomach. It felt like the worst cramps he could possibly imagine, and he could not help but to groan in pain.

He'd been curled up and moaning for a few minutes before Ashley came in, having heard him. She rushed to his side, and began trying to comfort him.

"Why is this happening?" He asked through gritted teeth. He felt like he wanted to cry, it hurt so badly.

"It's a normal symptom that comes with pregnancy, dear," She said softly. She brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. He was starting to sweat and it was making his hair stick to his forehead.

"Make it stop, please," He begged.

"I'll get you some Tylenol and I'll get the doctor."

"Okay," Ichabod whispered.

Because things were never bad enough for Ichabod, at that exact moment, he felt a wave of nausea overcome him. Before he could stop it, he found himself leaning over the bed and throwing up. It was only after he was mostly finished that he realized what had happened. Ashley was standing there, with an expression of both horror and disgust on her face, but she seemed to be trying to hide it.

"I'm sorry," Ichabod said, out of breath. "I didn't mean to… Oh, God, I'm sorry." He was starting to cry.

"It's okay," Ashley said, taking a step back. There was vomit all over her scrubs. "I have a few other sets of scrubs. I'll just go shower and change my clothes. Do you want me to call your wife?"

Ichabod sniffed, and Ashley handed him a box of tissues.

"I… I guess you should," He said, pulling several out. He held one to his mouth, unsure if he was going to be sick again. When he was sure he wasn't, he spoke again. "I guess I have to tell her the news."


	2. Chapter 2

Many thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this and coming up with so many good ideas for it!

Ch. 26

Sam was very bored. Ever since he'd found out he was pregnant, he'd stopped working, and since the incident where he'd fainted, Joon had been watching him like a hawk and forcing him to rest all the time.

At least at first he'd had Edward and the kids to hang out with and watch while Joon was working, but this week Edward had decided to finally go back to class. He had not gone back since the bullying incident with the other student.

So, Sam was staying home with the kids. He played with them for a bit in the morning but now they were all napping. In the time since he'd got to sleep, he'd tried to entertain himself. He'd watched some television, and had played some solitaire, and had made himself a bunch of mashed potatoes to eat – mixed with vanilla ice cream, of course – but now he was full and tired of watching television, so he was lying down on the couch and staring at the clock.

Joon would be home in three hours, and Edward would be home in two.

Sam wondered if he would go crazy if this is how every day was going to be for the next seven and a half months.

A sound at the front door distracted him from his thoughts. It sounded like someone was scratching at the wood. He knew that sound. Edward sometimes scratched at it if he was frustrated or trying to pick the lock to get in if Sam or Joon accidentally locked it. Knocking was not really an option for him.

Sam stood up and walked over, opening the door to see Edward standing there, as he'd expected.

He had not expected the younger man to have a black eye, though.

"Edward? What happened?" Sam asked, concerned. He let Edward inside the house. It was clear that the dark haired man was close to crying, so Sam led him to the sofa and sat him down. "Why do you have a black eye?"

Edward looked at him sadly, but said nothing. He was afraid that Sam might get angry at him.

"Let me get you some ice for it," Sam said, standing up. He walked to the kitchen and returned a few moments later, holding a bag of frozen peas. "You can lie down."

Edward nodded, and laid back, resting his head on one of the throw pillows. Sam took a seat on the edge of the couch next to him. "Close your eyes," He instructed.

Edward closed his eyes, and Sam held the ice to his skin. The younger man sighed in relief as the cold package took some of the pain away.

"Tell me what happened," Sam said again, once Edward seemed to be more comfortable.

"You're going to be mad," Edward said softly. "I don't want you to be mad."

"I'm not going to be mad. Am I ever angry at you?"

"No…"

"So tell me."

"This guy at school today… well he followed me," Edward started.

"Where'd he follow you?"

"Through the hallway. He's in my sculpture class. He dates the girl who said I ruined her sculpture…"

"Okay…"

"We had just left class, and he pushed me up against the wall and he hit me. He's bigger than me, so I couldn't get away."

Sam's jaw dropped. "What?! Did anyone help you?!"

Edward shrugged. "No. I didn't expect them to."

"Did you defend yourself?" Visions of Edward stabbing some teenager were racing through Sam's mind, and he was starting to get nervous as to where this was going.

"No. I just let him hit me. I thought you and Joon would be upset if I hurt him back."

Sam sighed. "Edward… you did the right thing. You could hurt someone very much if you wanted to, so I'm glad you didn't, but we can't have people bullying you like that. Did you tell the professor?"

"He saw it."

"And?"

"He didn't say anything. He doesn't like me."

Sam frowned. "I know. He's not a good person. I wish people would look past your hands and see the person inside. You're a good guy."

"Thanks."

Sam shifted the ice pack a bit, trying to cover more of the bruise on Edward's face. Edward flinched as he did this.

"Does that hurt?"

"It's sore," Edward replied.

After a moment of silence, Sam spoke up again. "Joon and I would understand if you didn't want to go back. We wouldn't be upset with you."

"If I don't go back, they will win." Edward stated, as if it were obvious. "I don't want to let them win."

"I understand. I suppose we'll have to talk to your professor again."

"It doesn't matter."

"I guess you're right."

There was another long silence. Sam kept holding the makeshift ice pack on Edward's face, hoping that the swelling would go down a bit. A few minutes later, he realized why Edward was being so quiet. His breathing had evened out and he'd fallen asleep. Sam pulled a throw blanket over him, but didn't leave his side.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Many thanks to Phish Tacko for her help with this!

Ch. 27

With a new baby coming, Anthony and Johanna both knew that they would need more money than what they had. They had been just getting by on what little savings they had, but they would need more for the baby. They had essentially nothing.

Johanna had been the first to get a job. She was hired as a waitress at the local Cheesecake Factory. Anthony had gotten hired about a week later, to work on a ship for a few months. It was transporting cargo to the East and back, and his contract had said that he'd be out at sea for four months.

Johanna really did not want him to go, especially because he was pregnant, but she knew that they really needed the money and that most places would not hire Anthony because of his condition. In addition, he was told that the work on the ship would not be that heavy, mainly just cleaning and cooking for the crew, so he could probably handle it.

So, with the promise that they'd see each other soon and that he would call or email whenever possible, Anthony set off on the boat.

The first day that he was on board, he began regretting it. He'd spent a lot of time on the ocean before, but being pregnant made him feel a lot more sick than he had in the past, and he spent an hour the first morning throwing up over the side.

The crew had stared at him a bit, probably thinking that he was new at sailing. A few of them smirked when he walked by. Anthony tried not to let it get to him. There wasn't much he could do about being so sick, he'd have to just try to cope with it. Maybe it would let up.

Of course, it didn't. Anthony was just as sick on the second day as he was on the first. This time the other crew members actually laughed at him. One offered him some over-the-counter medication for sea sickness. Another suggested that the stare at a fixed point for a few moments. At least those two had been trying to be helpful.

After another hour of sickness, Anthony went to his small cabin to get ready to work that day. He was told to clean up the deck. Seeing how sick he had been, the captain had told him not to touch any of the food. He didn't want Anthony getting the other crew sick, in case he actually had a virus. He'd also tried to assure Anthony that whatever he had, it would probably go away in a few days. Anthony quietly went about his business that day, trying to decide whether it was best to tell the captain the truth, that he would not be "getting better" any time soon, or whether to keep it to himself and hope for the best.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for her help with this! Go read her stuff!

Ch. 28

It was midday when Angelica first noticed it. Jack was staring at her.

"What's up?" She asked, looking back at him.

"I could really go for some cheesecake right about now."

Angelica raised an eyebrow. "Cheesecake?"

"Yes. I'm craving cheesecake. Can we go to Cheesecake Factory?"

"We can go for lunch. We should see if Elizabeth and Will want to come too."

00

An hour later Will, Elizabeth, Angelica, Jack, and Angela were all piled into Will's truck and heading towards Cheesecake Factory. Since it was a full hour since Jack's cravings had started, he was starting to get antsy and was moving around a bit.

"Jack!" Angelica scolded, putting a hand on his knee as he moved his leg. "Calm down."

"I want sugar, though," He said. "Come on... Will, drive faster!"

"We're almost there," Will replied. "And I'm already going 10 miles over the speed limit."

Jack sighed. "Come on..."

"Relax, Jack," Elizabeth said, turning around to look at him. "Look, we're here."

"Finally."

Angelica rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

The group walked inside the restaurant and were seated quickly. After getting Angela set up in a high chair, they began scanning the menus. It only took Jack a moment to choose what he wanted.

"Find something you like?" Angelica asked.

"Hershey's cheesecake."

"For lunch?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, for lunch."

Angelica was about to say something about eating something a bit more healthy, but was interrupted by the waitress coming to their table. She was surprised to see a familiar face.

"Johanna? You work here?" She asked.

"Jack! Angelica! It's great to see you! Yes, I work here. How are you?" Johanna answered, smiling. "I'm Johanna, by the way. I will be your server," She said to Will and Elizabeth.

"That's Will and Elizabeth. We're fine. Jack's expecting another baby. How's Anthony? And your dad?"

"Both are pregnant again, actually. How far along are you?" Johanna asked Jack.

"Almost two months."

Angelica noticed how Jack was starting to tap his feet again.

"Jack's craving sugar, so he's being difficult," Angelica told the younger woman.

"Hey! I'm not difficult," Jack said, pouting. "You're just jealous because you can't eat cheesecake too."

"She can't eat cheesecake?" Will asked.

"She's lactose-intolerant."

"Jack! Don't tell them that!"

Johanna just watched the group interact, trying not to laugh as they all argued.

Will looked at Jack again. "So, she's not lactose-intolerant?"

"She is, she just doesn't want to admit it."

Johanna cleared her throat. She had other customers to serve.

"Sorry," Elizabeth said, apologizing for the whole group. "We'll order now."

Everyone placed their orders and Johanna hurried off to the kitchen and then to her other customers.

00

"Do you want some cheesecake?" Jack asked, sticking a forkful of the food in Will's face. Johanna had given Jack a good-sized slice of the cake, and he couldn't eat it all himself.

"You know I can't eat that," Will answered.

"Why's that again?"

"I'm diabetic, Jack," Will reminded him. "That cheesecake is richer than Bill Gates and if I were to eat it, I would probably go into diabetic shock, go into a coma, and die."

"That's no fun."

"No, it really wouldn't be."

Jack took another bite of his cheesecake, then another one. A few minutes later he started tapping the table with his fingers.

"What are you doing NOW?" Angelica asked. "You're worse than Angela. At least she sits quietly."

"I think the sugar made me hyper. I kinda want to run."

"Go walk around outside if you need to move," Will suggested.

"Great idea! I'll see you guys in a bit, thanks for the cheesecake, bye!" Jack said in one breath.

"Bye," Will, Angelica and Elizabeth answered.

While Jack paced around out in front of the restaurant, the rest of the group finished their meals. Angelica explained to Will and Elizabeth how she and Jack knew Johanna from the shelter. Will paid the bill for all of them, and Angelica left her email address for Johanna before they walked outside.

"Do you think Jack's nearby?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm right here," The pirate answered.

Everyone looked down to see Jack sitting on the curb, head in his hands.

"Are you okay? We thought you'd be walking around," Will said.

"Just got a bit tired is all," Jack replied, forcing a smile.

"Probably just crashed. Come on," Will said, extending his hand to help Jack up.

Jack grabbed on to Will and let the blacksmith lift him.

"We'll go home and you can sleep."

Jack nodded and got into the car next to Angelica. Angela was in her car seat, sleeping next to them.

"Are you alright?" Angelica asked, noticing that Jack was being very quiet on the ride back.

"I'm a little bit dizzy," He said. "Maybe I'm just tired."

"We'll be back in a minute," Will told them.

No sooner had they gotten back on board the ship did Jack stumble down below deck and collapse onto the sofa, unconscious.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Many thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this!

Ch. 29

Soon after Gilbert got back from his exam, Becky returned home from work. He was cooking dinner when she walked in.

"Hey," She greeted him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "How'd it go today?"

"The doctor said everything's normal so far," He replied, turning the stove off. He put the chicken he'd made on a plate.

"That's great, I'm glad to hear it."

Gilbert smiled at her, and the two sat down at the table.

"Tommy's sleeping," Gilbert said.

"I figured. It's nice to have a dinner alone for once."

"It is," Gilbert agreed.

"Are you excited, though? You seem kinda out of it," Becky told him.

"I guess I was just thinking of my family before."

Becky frowned. "About your parents?"

"Mm-hm. I miss them."

"It's too bad they're not around to meet their grandchildren," Becky said softly.

Gilbert sighed. It just hit him, right then, that his parents really were never coming back.

"I wish they were here."

"I do too. For your sake."

The two continued eating in silence.

As Gilbert finished, Tommy started crying.

"I'll go take care of him," Becky said, standing up. She could tell that Gilbert was still upset.

"Thanks."

Once Gilbert was sure that Becky was out of the room, he stopped holding back and let himself cry as well.

00

After several moments of crying, Gilbert finally calmed down a bit. For some reason, instead of feeling drained, he actually felt really hungry. He had no idea why. He could hear Becky reading Tommy a story, and noticed that there was still some food from dinner left, so he helped himself to some more food.

He noticed as he ate, he felt better. It was odd, but Gilbert didn't fight it. He just continued to eat. Soon enough he'd finished everything he'd cooked for dinner, and was searching through the fridge for more.

He found some leftover Chinese food that still seemed good, and started on that.

After finishing the Chinese food – both his, and Becky's leftovers – Gilbert started to feel a bit sick. Yet for some reason he still wanted to eat. And since eating was making him feel better mentally, he decided that he might as well just do what he wanted. He was pregnant, anyway. People would expect him to eat more than before.

He found some cookie dough in the fridge and tore the package open, eating the contents absentmindedly as he leaned on the counter. He hadn't really expected to finish the whole thing, but he managed to do so. Now he was really starting to feel bad. Two small bags of chips later, and he was finally done. He cringed, looking at the mess he'd created. There were food cartons, open packages and bags all over the table. Besides that, his stomach hurt. Gilbert didn't really want to clean it all up. Sighing again, he leaned back and rested a hand on his stomach. It was pressing out against his jeans, so he unbuttoned them to make himself more comfortable. At least he didn't feel like crying anymore. That was one good thing.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Many thanks to Phish Tacko for her help with this!

Ch. 30

The doorbell rang, pulling Mort's attention away from the television. He and Anakin were watching The Big Bang Theory, but he had been expecting Maryanne to come by.

He didn't want to get up and answer the door. He was so comfortable. He'd just gotten his blanket wrapped around him and he had found the perfect position on his pillow. Maryanne was worth giving it up for, though.

Sighing, he pushed himself up and answered the door.

Maryanne was standing there, wearing a black ACDC shirt and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans.

"Good afternoon, Mort," She greeted him.

"It's the afternoon already?" Mort asked, looking around. The sun was high in the sky. He'd apparently spent the entire morning on the couch and hadn't realized it. "Well shit, it is."

"Did you just wake up?" Maryanne looked Mort over. He was dressed only in a pair of sweat pants, a tattered "Bazinga" t-shirt, and slippers. His hair was wild, as well. He clearly hadn't brushed it yet.

"No, no. I was just watching a Big Bang Theory marathon. Why don't you come on in?"

"Sure."

Maryanne followed Mort inside. Anakin was in his little exersaucer in the living room, eyes fixed on the television.

'Like father like son,' Maryanne thought to herself.

Mort sat back down on the couch. He kept looking at his blanket and pillow longingly, and Maryanne could tell that he wanted to lie down again.

"Go lay down," she said, "It's a Saturday. You get to relax today. Do you need me to do anything? Fold your laundry, feed Buster maybe?"

"Aw, you're so nice. Mom already folded the laundry and... Wait..."

It was then that Mort realized he hadn't seen Buster all morning. Usually the cat stuck close to him and sat on the edge of the couch as he watched television, but he hadn't even seen him come out to eat!

Seeing Mort's expression, Maryanne immediately thought that something was wrong.

"What's up?" She asked. "You look nervous."

"Buster. I haven't seen him all day. Usually he comes out and sits with me and he never misses breakfast. Crap, he probably got out!"

Mort stood back up.

"We have to go find him! Oh, man, he could be out in the woods and he might've gotten eaten by a coyote or an owl or something!"

Maryanne frowned.

"Mort, calm down. Coyotes and owls usually come out at night, and besides, he could just be hiding inside, sleeping somewhere.

Mort listened to her, but judging by the look on his face, Maryanne could tell that he was still nervous.

She sighed.

"Alright, then. I'll take the second floor, you take the first floor."

"Great!" Mort answered.

With that, both of them were off on their search.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for her help with this! Go read her stuff!

Ch. 31

Sam was at home, sitting in front of the television with Edward. A Nightmare on Elm Street was on, and both men were glued to the television.

Sam's mouth dropped open as yet another victim was killed in their sleep.

"Oh my God," He whispered, covering his eyes.

"You scared?" Edward asked.

"N… No," Sam replied, removing his hands. "It's just very violent."

"Did you expect it to be different?"

"I guess not."

"We can stop watching it if you want," Edward offered.

"No, I kind of want to see the end. We got this far."

"Alright."

Sam cringed a little later when another person, the one who actually looked a lot like a very young version of both him and Edward, was pulled through the bed and his blood splattered all over the room.

"What?! How does that even happen?!" Sam asked, staring in horror at the scene.

"It's a movie," Edward reminded him.

"Ugh."

"It's almost over."

Sam barely made it through the rest of the movie. He kept thinking about all the horrible ways that these teenagers had died, and it bothered him. But, by the time he, Edward, Joon, and the babies had sat down for dinner, he felt a little better. The 'family' talked amongst themselves, and he stopped dwelling on the thoughts he'd had of Freddy Kreuger.

Everything seemed okay when he settled into bed that night, too. Sam slipped off into sleep pretty easily. The next thing he knew, though, he was in a totally different world all together. It looked like a park. As he began to wander around, trying to figure out where he was, he caught something in the corner of his eye. When he realized what it was, his body froze. Freddy was standing there, staring at him.

Sam told himself to run, to get up and move and get as far away as possible, but his body wasn't moving. It seemed like Freddy had cast some type of spell over him, making him unable to move at all. He was paralyzed and scared as hell. All he could do was scream as Freddy came closer and closer.

Just as Freddie was about a foot away, something shook him, and Sam suddenly found himself back at home, in bed.

"Sam!" He heard someone yell.

"What? Where am I?!" He asked, looking around nervously.

"You were screaming in your sleep," Joon informed him.

There were then footsteps from outside. Both Sam and Joon looked up to see Edward pushing the door open.

"Are you guys okay?" He asked, obviously still half asleep. "I heard yelling."

"I just had a nightmare," Sam said, embarrassed. Now that he was calmer, he could feel the sweat running down his back. He must've been truly scared.

"Oh, okay," Edward replied.

Joon wrapped an arm around Sam, holding him close to her.

"We'll be okay. Go back to bed, Edward," She told the dark-haired man.

Edward nodded and yawned, covering his mouth with his wrist. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Goodnight," Both Joon and Sam said.

Once Edward was gone, Joon turned to her husband. "Are you going to be okay to go back to sleep? Any more screaming and you'll wake the kids."

"I think I'll be okay," Sam said, biting his lower lip nervously. He didn't think he could go back to sleep even if he wanted to.

Joon smiled at him. "It'll be all right." She laid down and motioned for Sam to lay down with her. He rested his head on her chest, and wrapped an arm around her, while she wrapped an arm around him. Joon began running her other hand through his hair, and slowly but surely calmed him enough to go back to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Many thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this!

Ch. 32

It was a Saturday and Sweeney was, for once, feeling fine. He'd only been sick once that morning and his body didn't ache as badly as it usually did. It was also a nice sunny day, warmer than usual for March, so he decided to go down to Cheesecake Factory to see his daughter.

Before going, he packed her a lunch, figuring that perhaps she could go on break and they could spend some time together.

He left Emma with Mrs. Lovett and took off driving, making it to the restaurant fairly fast. Even traffic seemed to be lighter that day.

Sweeney walked into the restaurant and saw Johanna working towards the back, taking customer's orders. As soon as she turned around, he called out her name.

"Johanna!"

Johanna turned and was surprised to see her dad standing there.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" She asked, as she walked over.

Once she was close, he handed her the bagged lunch he'd prepared.

"I made you some lunch."

"Aw, dad, that's really sweet. I'll take my break and we can go eat together."

Sweeney nodded and had started following her outside when a voice interrupted them.

"Johanna! You're not on break yet." It was Johanna's supervisor, a squirrelly looking 20-something with way too much acne and Coke-bottle glasses too big for his face.

"Ugh," Johanna sighed, then looked at her father. "I have to work. He's a jerk if you disobey him."

Sweeney shook his head. "No, you're entitled to take your break. Hey, squirrelly kid! She's on break."

"Says who? I'm her boss!"

"And I'm her father, and she's on break."

The manager was about to make some other comment, when he noticed the scowl on Sweeney's face. He decided that it was probably better not to mess with him.

"Whatever, Johanna you have half an hour."

"Thanks!" She called out.

Johanna and Sweeney walked outside and took a seat at one of the tables. As Johanna unpacked her lunch, Sweeney spoke.

"Johanna, is Anthony okay? I've been trying to call his cell phone and I never get through."

"Oh, he didn't tell you?"

Sweeney looked a bit worried. "Tell me what?"

"He took a job on a ship. He'll be gone for the next four months."

"I see."

"He must've just forgotten. It's been an exciting few weeks, finding out he was pregnant, and the job required him to leave pretty quickly."

Sweeney just nodded. Johanna could tell that he was upset that Anthony hadn't told him this himself.

"I'm sure he meant to tell you, dad. There really was just a lot going on."

"I understand," Sweeney replied, though he still looked a bit upset. "Isn't he pregnant, though? That's a lot of heavy labor for someone who's expecting."

"He's doing light stuff, cleaning and cooking and all that. I'll tell him to write you when he can."

"Thanks."

The two continued to sit together quietly until Johanna's break was up.

00

After seeing Johanna, Sweeney still had some energy left, so he decided to drop in on his father. He did not see the man that frequently. His mother had mainly raised him, his father only occasionally sent money or dropped in on major holidays or birthdays.

Donald Barker was one of the wealthiest black men in London. He lived in a large house on top of a hill, in the nice section of town. Sweeney had had to speak to a guard to even get through the gates. When he did, he pulled up alongside one of his dad's many cars, then knocked on the front door. A short, older, gray-haired man opened it.

"Hello?" The man asked.

"Hi, I'm here to see my father."

"Oh. Benjamin, is it? Your father has mentioned you. Come right in." The man led him inside the lavish house. Sweeney looked around. Beautiful paintings adorned the walls, and the floors were all hard wood. The place was definitely beautiful. It'd always been nice, he just hadn't been there that often except for a few times as a kid.

The older man led him into one of the sitting rooms, where Sweeney could see his father was watching television.

"Mr. Barker, your son is here," The man said.

Donald paused the television show he was watching and turned around.

"Benjamin?! How are you, son? What brings you here! You can go now, Marcus. Thank you."

The older man nodded and left the room.

"That's my butler, Marcus," Donald explained. "Come sit down. Tell me how you've been!"

Sweeney nodded and sat down near his father. "I've been fine. Last year I... what are you watching?" He asked, catching sight of the television.

"Oh, it's the American presidential debates. Just figured I'd watch it to see Obama make a fool of himself. Socialist bastard."

Sweeney then remembered how his father had always been into politics. A hardcore conservative, the man never missed a political debate, British or otherwise. He didn't really know what to reply to that, so he just shook his head. "Right. Well, anyway, last year, I had a baby... I don't know if Mum told you about that..."

"She mentioned it to me. We don't talk that often, though. Who's the lucky lady that you settled with?"

Sweeney hadn't expected that question. Hadn't his mother told his father that he'd carried the baby himself?

"Um... I actually had the baby."

Donald's jaw dropped a bit. "You... So you're one of those mpregs, then."

"Yes."

"Is that how Johanna came about, too?"

"Yes... I thought you knew this."

Donald shook his head. "No, I didn't."

There was an awkward silence before Sweeney spoke up.

"Does this change your opinions?"

"No, no. I was just surprised."

"Because, uh… I'm actually pregnant again." Sweeney rested a hand on his still-flat stomach.

"Really? You're having a third child?"

"Yes. It's due in seven and a half months."

"Wow, son... I had no idea."

There was another awkward silence before Sweeney broke it again.

"So, how's work?"

"It's going great. I just hired a few new barristers for my firm, and they're working out well. We've won most of our cases lately."

"Great."

"And you're a barber, right?"

"Yes."

"How's that going?"

"It's going," Sweeney said, chuckling. "I guess business is good."

"Good."

With the third awkward silence, Sweeney decided to leave.

"I have to be going, I just wanted to say hi," He said as he stood up.

Donald nodded. "It's good to see you. Let me know if you need anything, okay, son?"

"I can't ask you for money," Sweeney replied. "You know I'd never do that."

"But the option is always there if you need it. Just know that. I'll give you whatever you need."

"Thanks, dad," Sweeney said. "I'll see you later."

His dad smiled. "See you later, son."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this. Go read her stuff!

Ch. 33

Having now admitted to himself that he was, in fact, pregnant, Ichabod had to tell his supervisor. He'd contemplated lying to the man, but he knew that eventually the truth would come out and he would get in trouble for it if he did. At some point, someone would see him with his big belly and would know that he was with child, and word would travel fast around the police department.

So, as soon as he was feeling better, Ichabod called Mr. Samuels and explained the situation. Mr. Samuels wasn't at all surprised. He'd suspected all along that Ichabod had been pregnant, and immediately placed the constable on leave. While he did get some salary while on leave, it wasn't as high as what he usually got, so Katrina had agreed to take up a job for the duration of Ichabod's pregnancy.

Ichabod was a bit suspicious because Katrina did not put up much of a fight over it. She actually seemed okay with going back to work, and okay with Ichabod being pregnant. It was a total change in demeanor from when he'd been pregnant with Jackson. He wondered if she had anything to do with his pregnancy, if maybe she switched his pills for some reason, but he had no proof of it, and he didn't want to live the rest of his life doubting Katrina. It would be too much. As quickly as the thought came, he pushed it out of his mind.

Another odd thing was that Katrina had insisted that they get some type of help for Ichabod, since he was getting sick so often and in pain so much. Obviously, he could not take care of both himself and Jackson in his condition. At first Ichabod was reluctant about this – it was bad enough that he was a pregnant male, it would just be another blow to his masculinity to have some nurse looking after him all day - but after further consideration, he realized that Katrina was right. He really was in no state to care for his son and himself. He was throwing up constantly throughout the day, and was very weak, not to mention the constant cramps that wracked his body.

"What about Masbath?" Katrina suggested, as she made her husband some peppermint tea. That seemed to calm his stomach sometimes.

"Why Masbath?"

"Well, you know, he did just graduate from that school for science... Last I spoke to him, he was aiming to go to medical school. He's intelligent and I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping out."

Ichabod nodded. "I always liked him. Yes, see if he's up to it."

Sure enough, Masbath was happy to help. He had graduated recently and had yet to find employment, plus helping Ichabod would give him valuable insight into what it was like truly working with patients. He agreed to come by the next morning.

00

When Katrina opened the door, she was surprised by how different Masbath looked from the last time she'd seen him. He was no longer a short, thin twelve-year-old. Now he was tall – probably taller than Ichabod – and had a more athletic body. His face still looked the same, albeit slightly more mature, though he still had short hair. He was dressed in a blue button down shirt and black slacks and black shoes.

"Masbath! My God, you've grown up!" Katrina exclaimed, looking him over. "You're so tall now!"

Masbath smiled the same shy smile that she remembered. "Yes, well, I am seventeen now."

"How fast time goes... Well, come in! Ichabod's inside. He's been very sick this morning, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Masbath replied, following Katrina in.

They found Ichabod lying on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes and groaning in pain.

"He gets these horrible cramps, and headaches sometimes too. This pregnancy his hitting him hard," Katrina explained.

"They're not cramps," Ichabod said, removing his arm from his eyes and looking at Masbath.

"Right. Pains, then," Katrina answered. "He gets pain in his lower stomach."

"I see. And you mentioned you have a son, too?"

"Yes, I'll go get him. He's in the playpen in the other room."

She returned a few seconds later, holding Jackson. "He's ten months old."

As soon as the toddler saw Masbath, he put his arms out, wanting the boy to hold him. Masbath smiled, and took Jackson in his arms.

"Seems that he likes you," Ichabod noted.

"I suppose so." Masbath smiled at the baby, and the baby smiled back. "He's very cute. He has your face shape and Ichabod's hair and eyes."

"Yes, he's a cross between the both of us," Katrina said. "He's very well-behaved. He'll be easy to look after. It's Ichabod that I'm concerned with."

Masbath could hear Ichabod sigh when Katrina said that.

"Don't worry, sir," Masbath told him. "I'll be happy to help you."

"I'd need you to come over in the morning, to make sure he's okay, and spend the day here until I return from work. If Ichabod is sick, I'd like you to help him as best you could. Also, you'd be responsible for helping with Jackson. Obviously, if Ichabod is feeling okay,

he'll take care of Jackson, but on his bad days, he'll need the extra help."

"Sounds fine to me."

"Great," Katrina said. "I'm assuming the pay we discussed is all right with you?"

"It is."

"Then you can start tomorrow. Please be here at seven am."

"No problem," Masbath said, handing Jackson back to Katrina. "I'll be here right on time."

"Wonderful. We'll let you get back to your day, then. See you tomorrow."

00

When Masbath arrived the next morning – exactly at 7 AM, as promised – Katrina was just about to leave for work.

"Ichabod's in the bathroom," She said as she put her coat on. "He's been sick since he woke up. Jackson's still sleeping. I trust you'll be all right if I leave now?"

"We'll be fine," Masbath said, removing his own coat.

"My number is on the refrigerator if you need me. If not, I'll see you around four this afternoon."

"Alright. Have a good day."

Katrina forced a smile and headed towards the door.

Once she was gone, Masbath followed the sound of retching to the bathroom. He knocked on the door, then opened it to find Ichabod on his knees, throwing up. Gently, he rested a hand on Ichabod's back and began to rub gently.

A minute later, he was done. He flushed and looked up at Masbath, tears in his eyes. Masbath also noticed that Ichabod's nose was running, and handed him a tissue. "I'll get you some water."

He walked out to the kitchen, and returned a minute later, water in hand, to find Ichabod leaning with his back up against the bathtub. He still seemed to be crying. Masbath knelt down in front of him and handed him the water.

"What's wrong, sir? Why are you upset?"

"I don't know," Ichabod sniffled. "I think I'm just tired... and now I'm making a fool of myself in front of you."

"No, sir, it's alright. Your body is changing to accommodate the baby, of course there will be days when you're feeling more upset than others. It's alright. You should not be embarrassed."

"Everything hurts, Masbath," Ichabod whispered. "My whole body hurts. I want to sleep."

"Then let's get you to bed."

Ichabod nodded, then drank the water and handed the glass back to Masbath before the younger man helped him stand up. Masbath wrapped an arm around Ichabod's waist, and helped him to the bedroom, where he sat him down on the bed.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but when is the last time you changed your pajamas?"

Masbath could smell the sweat on Ichabod, and assumed that he either hadn't showered or changed clothes in quite a while.

"I keep forgetting... I'm sorry, it's been about three days..." Ichabod said, eyes looking very sad again. Just then, a sharp pain hit Ichabod, and he held his stomach, groaning.

Seeing this, Masbath helped Ichabod lie down, and wrapped the blankets around him, tucking him in.

"Don't worry, sir. Why don't you just rest, and when you feel a little better, I'll help you to the shower and then you can put on some fresh clothes. Does that sound good?"

Ichabod just groaned again.

"Is there anything that usually helps your stomach?" Masbath asked.

"Tea. Peppermint tea helps."

"I'll go make you some."

It took Masbath a few minutes to find the tea in the kitchen, and boil the water. When he returned to Ichabod's room, he found the man asleep, holding on to a pillow tightly.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Many thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this. Go read her stuff, she is an awesome author!

Ch. 34

"Come on, Tarrant. You need to get out sometimes. It's not good for you or the babies to be cooped up all day."

Carlie had noticed that her brother hadn't been leaving his house much since he'd found out he was pregnant, and had stopped by to see him and try to get him to come out for a little bit.

"Don't want to," Tarrant answered, burrowing deeper into the covers on the bed.

"We can go for a little walk. Nothing big. It's beautiful out, Tarrant."

"Nope. Tired."

Carlie sighed, and turned to Alice, who was standing nearby.

"Told you he won't leave. He's been in bed for two days now."

"Tarrant, why don't you want to get out of bed? You must be getting bored just lying there." Carlie said.

Tarrant sighed, and turned to face his sister. "Because. Everyone will see, and they'll ask questions."

"See what?"

Tarrant frowned, and rested a hand on his stomach. "I can see it already."

"You're afraid that people will notice that you're pregnant?"

"It's quite obvious," Tarrant replied. "I don't want to be bothered."

"Tarrant, you're not showing that much yet. I doubt anyone will say anything. And even if they did, who cares? The Red Queen is gone. You're safe now."

Tarrant just sighed again. "I'm happy here."

"Well it's not good for you. Come on, get dressed," Carlie said, pulling her brother up into a sitting position. "We're going."

Tarrant rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he got out of bed and started looking for something to wear.

00

The group had made it into the forest nearby, and were sitting on top of some of the bigger rocks, enjoying the nice weather.

"It's wonderful out today," Alice noted. She was carrying Daisy, who was curious about the nature surrounding her. The little girl grabbed onto a flower, pulling it up and looking it over.

"That's a daisy, Daisy!" Alice said.

The baby looked at it, then said something that sounded like 'daisy'.

"Good girl!" Carlie congratulated her. "She's learning more and more each day."

"Yes, very cute," Tarrant replied almost sarcastically. "Can we go back now?"

"We've only been out for a little while," Carlie replied. "Why do you want to go back so badly?"

"Because my stomach hurts and I'm tired, hot, and uncomfortable," Tarrant said seriously. "I want to go home."

"Fine," Carlie agreed. At least her brother had come with them in the first place.

As Tarrant got off of the rock he was sitting on, he heard Carlie talk to Alice.

"If he's this bad at a month and a half, I hate to see what it's like at nine months," She said jokingly.

"HEY!" Tarrant yelled. "I am still within earshot!"

Now he was in an even worse mood. Not even making some hats would've made him feel better. He just wanted to go home, curl up under the covers, and let this whole pregnancy pass.

Quietly, the group made their way back to Alice and Tarrant's house.

"I'm coming by tomorrow, dear brother," Carlie said as she helped Tarrant into bed. "You need to do something besides lie around all day. It's not good for you or the babies."

"Sleep now," Tarrant replied, pulling the covers up over his head. "Bye bye."

"Bye, Tarrant. I'll see you soon," Carlie said.

She stood up, pulled the covers down enough to reveal the top of Tarrant's head, and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Sleep well."

And with that, she left.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for her help with this!

Ch. 35

"Angelica."

Angelica looked up from the desk she was organizing.

"Yes, Jack?"

"Is there any candy left?"

"There's that bag of candy we bought in the closet." Angelica rolled her eyes. "What's with you and sugar lately?"

Jack shrugged, and got up off the bed to get it. "It helps when I get dizzy and shaky."

"Since when do you get shaky and dizzy?" Angelica was getting concerned. Jack was at seven weeks now, and she didn't want anything to happen to him or the baby.

"Um..." Jack looked around, trying to think of an answer. He'd specifically not mentioned this because he hadn't wanted to worry Angelica, and he'd hoped the symptoms would pass. "Just a few days, now."

"Why didn't you tell me?! When does it happen?"

"Just if I go too long without eating. If I eat sugar, it usually helps." Jack reached into the bag of candy, and pulled out a few Reese's peanut butter cups.

"That sounds like hypoglycemia."

"Hypo-what-now?"

"Hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar. Maybe it's got to do with you being pregnant."

"Oh. Maybe," Jack said, taking another bite. "I love these little peanut butter things. Can we get more of them?"

"If you eat healthier food every few hours, you won't need to eat candy to keep from fainting."

"Yeah, but that's not as fun."

Angelica sighed. "Whatever, Jack."

Jack shrugged again and continued eating his beloved candy.

"Can I have a piece?" Angelica asked, after a few moments.

"Maybe."

"Come on, fatso. Give me a piece."

Jack looked insulted. "Oi, I'm pregnant, not fat!"

While he was talking, Angelica took the chance to pull the bag of candy out of Jack's hand. She took a piece for herself.

"I know, I just figured I'd distract you."

Jack pouted. "That's mean."

"No it's not."

"Okay, it's not."

Angelica took a Jolly Rancher.

"Angelica?" Jack asked after she began eating it.

"Yes?" She asked in between bouts of rolling the candy around on her tongue.

"I'm dizzy again."

"Really?"

"I think I'm going to faint now."

"What?"

The next thing she knew, Jack was lying on the bed, unconscious again.

00

"Jack, you have to go to the doctor. This week. I told Will to start turning the ship back towards the US. I've also called Dr. Schnabel, and he's going to give you an exam as soon as you get there."

"You didn't have to do that. I'm fine."

"No you're not. You fainted."

"I was only out for a few moments," Jack replied, rubbing his eyes.

"You were out for three hours. I thought you were in a coma."

"Oh."

"Yeah. We'll be back in about five days' time. From now until then, you're going to eat every three hours, more often if you're feeling sick that day. Schnabel says that's the best way to handle it for now."

"I don't need a schedule, Angelica," Jack said, somewhat annoyed. He didn't want someone else controlling his life.

"You need one. Do you want the baby to be healthy? You can't be passing out all the time."

Jack pouted. "Throw that in my face. Fine. I'll follow your schedule."

"Good."

"Great."

"So you need to eat now."

"I'm not hungry, though."

"You have to eat. I'm not going to argue. Elizabeth made some steak and vegetables."

Jack thought this over. "That actually sounds good." He rubbed his stomach. He could feel the small bump even though he was not even two months along. "I'm showing already."

"We established that a few weeks ago. It's not that bad," Angelica said, wrapping an arm around him.

"I feel fat. I shouldn't be showing this soon," Jack sighed. "Why does everything happen to me? First the hypoglycemia, now this..."

"You're cranky because you need to eat. Let's go," Angelica said, helping Jack up.

"Meh."

"Come on, Sparrow." Angelica started walking up the stairs.

"Coming, coming," Jack said, walking behind her. They got up on deck, when Jack started running for the side.

"Jack?" Angelica questioned.

"Hold on…"

A second later, Jack was throwing up over the side.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this. Go read her stuff!

Ch. 36

For the second time that year, Gilbert, Sam, their women, and their children gathered together at Sam's house for what they hoped would be a nice meal together.

Everyone sat around the table, including the children, and helped themselves to the food. Joon sat next to Edward so she could help him eat, as slippery lasagna noodles were not something he could easily pick up. As she was cutting up Edward's food, she noticed Gilbert taking three huge pieces of the pasta.

"Hungry, are we?" She smirked.

Gilbert seemed caught off guard. He'd still been eating a lot when he was sad, but this time he hadn't even considered that he was doing it. He just took what he thought he wanted.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't eat much today," He said, hoping that the excuse would make her drop it. He'd have to remember to eat less around other people.

"And remember, he's eating for two now," Becky said, wrapping an arm around Gilbert's shoulder.

Gilbert forced a small smile.

"I'm just kidding with you. Eat as much of it as you want," Joon replied as she put a forkful of pasta into Edward's mouth.

"Okay," Gilbert replied, still feeling a bit awkward. Nonetheless the meal continued on.

Sam was talking about some old movie when it the power flickered on and off. Oddly, the babies seemed amused by it more than anything, and Esther and Victor started clapping as it went off and on.

When light returned, Gilbert could see that Sam's face was very pale. He looked nervous.

"Are you okay?" Gilbert asked.

This drew Joon, Becky, and Edward's attention towards Sam.

"Y-yes," Sam answered. "I'm okay. Just wasn't expecting that."

"Could be because of the storm moving in. I heard it's supposed to be a doozy. High winds, lots of rain, the whole nine yards," Becky said.

"I saw on the news that they were expecting power outages," Edward noted.

"And that's why I was sure to take out all of our candles and flashlights and blankets, so we should all be fine if that does occur," Joon said.

Sam smiled at his wife. "That was smart."

Before Joon could reply, the lights once again flickered. They turned on and off, and then, when a loud crack of thunder hit, they turned off for good.

At first, the room was quiet. The babies could be heard making small, questioning sounds, but none of them seemed to be getting upset. But then there was the panting sound, like someone was out of breath or nervous. Becky realized what it was almost instantly.

"Sam, are you okay? Gilbert, go find Sam. I think he's freaking out."

Sure enough, sitting on the floor under the table, was Sam. Gilbert knelt down to be more on Sam's level, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, are you okay?"

Sam definitely sounded like he was hyperventilating, and there was no verbal answer. Instead, he launched himself at Gilbert, wrapping his arms around the redhead.

"Whoa, okay," Gilbert said as he tried to find a spot where he could sit with Sam and not fall over. When he finally maneuvered himself against a wall, he spoke again.

"Sam, calm down. It's okay. It's just a storm."

Sam, who had his arms wrapped around Gilbert and was essentially glued to his side, disagreed. "I don't like it. What if the power's gone forever?"

"Well... that won't happen, but even if it did, people lived for thousands of years with no electricity."

"I couldn't watch movies," Sam replied, getting even closer to Gilbert, if that were possible. Now he was almost sitting in Gilbert's lap, with his arms around him and his head resting on his chest.

The redhead was used to comforting Arnie when he got like this, so it really wasn't a big deal to him. He was more concerned with how to calm Sam down.

"Are you guys okay down there?" Joon called. She had a flashlight in her hand, and cast the beam on them.

"Sam's upset," Gilbert said, though it was obvious if one looked at them. Sam was crying by then. Gilbert flinched a little as he felt him begin to tremble and began to pat his back. "Sam, it's okay,"

There was a loud sigh from elsewhere in the room. "He doesn't like blackouts," The voice – Joon's again– stated. "He's going to be nervous for a while. Sorry he latched on to you, Gilbert."

Gilbert nodded. "It's okay. Sam's a good guy." He started making his voice a little higher, like he was talking to a small child. "Right? Come on, you're okay." He hugged Sam a little tighter, but the shaking and crying didn't let up.

"Usually I just let him cry it out, but sometimes he-"

Joon wasn't able to finish the sentence. Sam had let go of Gilbert and was now standing at the sink and dry heaving. Soon enough, dry heaving became actual heaving and Sam was throwing up. When she cast the light on it, she could see the parts of tonight's dinner mixed in. Thankfully, it didn't seem to have gotten on Gilbert at all.

Gilbert just sighed, stood up, and moved next to Sam. He patted the brunette man's back.

"Come on, buddy, you're okay."

"Sometimes he gets so upset that he gets sick," Joon finished.

"I gathered that," Gilbert snapped. Then he realized how rude he probably sounded. "Sorry, Joon, I just... I'm a little worried about him."

A few minutes later Sam at least seemed to be done. He was shaking and sweaty, and he collapsed against Gilbert. When Becky cast a light on them both, Gilbert could see that Sam was still crying a little and that his body was still shaking.

"Um, I'll clean this up, maybe you'll want to get Sam some clean clothes?" Becky suggested. Indeed, Sam's shirt was covered with spots of undigested lasagna.

"Good idea," Joon replied. She wrapped an arm around her husband and maneuvered them out of the dining room and towards the bathroom.

Once there, she lit a candle so they could see. In the light, she could see the snot and tears and tiny chunks around his mouth. It was rare for her husband to look like such a wreck, so she knew it had to be really bad. He must've been terrified.

"Sam, are you okay now?" She asked. He did seem much steadier.

"I think so. I got stuff on my shirt."

"I know. I'm going to clean off your face and then we'll get you a new shirt, okay?"

"Okay."

Joon found a clean, dry washcloth and ran it under the faucet. Thankfully, they still had water. She began dabbing it on Sam's face, trying to clean him up. Sam closed his eyes as she did this, likely embarrassed as the realization of what had just occurred hit him.

"There we go," She said, wiping the last of his tears away. "All done. Now we just need to get you a new shirt, and you can go rejoin society."

Sam silently followed Joon to their bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I hugged Gilbert." Sam said as Joon looked through his shirts.

"So? You've hugged Gilbert before."

"But then I threw up on Gilbert, too."

"Nope. Not on him."

"I made an ass of myself."

"I think that Gilbert and Becky just thought you were scared. They were worried more than anything, Sam. Don't over-think it. You know they aren't judgmental people."

"I guess."

Joon turned around, holding a dark red button-down shirt. "This okay?"

"Sure."

She helped Sam remove his old shirt, tossed it in the laundry basket, then helped him into his new shirt, buttoning it for him all the way down.

"Looks good," Joon remarked.

"Thanks..."

"I guess we should go make sure everyone else is okay."

Sam nodded in agreement, and followed Joon back out.

Becky had long since finished rinsing the sink out, and Gilbert was sitting in a chair, sort of playing with the food in front of him, but not eating it. The babies seemed okay, oddly. They were sitting in their chairs, making baby talk sounds, and as long as someone paid attention to them, they didn't fuss.

"Hey," Gilbert said, snapping out of his trance. "I just realized, has anyone seen Edward?"

There came the sound of a soft whimper from the corner of the room. Becky shined a flashlight in that direction, and everyone could see Edward curled up in the corner, arms wrapped around his knees, and shaking.

"Well, here we go again," Joon said.

00

It'd taken no small amount of coercing to get Edward out of his corner and calmed down. He hadn't cried, but he looked like he was going to. Everyone else was a bit surprised. Edward had spent so long up in the mansion alone, no one thought that he'd be afraid of a little black out. Surely it was dark up there a lot.

Eventually, both Sam and Edward tired themselves out from being nervous, so the rest of the group took them to bed. Joon led Sam to their bedroom first, pulled back the covers and tucked him in, still wearing his clothes. Since there was no power, there was no heat, and Sam was shivering, so Joon got another blanket from the closet and wrapped it around him.

"Go to sleep, honey," She whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead. "It'll be a little better tomorrow when the sun's out."

"Do you think we'll have power tomorrow?" Sam asked sleepily.

"I hope so."

"Can you please tell Becky and Gilbert I'm sorry? And I'm sorry for puking on Gilbert."

"It's okay. You missed," Came a voice from the door. It was Gilbert. He and Becky were waiting outside the bedroom.

"Still sorry," Sam said, yawning.

"Go to sleep," Joon told him again.

"Okay."

Once Sam was tucked in, the group walked Edward to his room. The dark-haired man was still shaking nervously.

"Can you guys give us a moment?" Joon asked as she led Edward into the room. "Usually Sam or I help him with his pajamas."

"Sure," Gilbert and Becky agreed.

Joon thanked them and closed the door to Edward's bedroom. From outside, Becky and Gilbert could hear Joon's voice.

"Edward, you have to calm down," She said kindly. "Which pajamas do you want?"

They couldn't hear Edward's voice, but they could hear Joon speaking again.

"The red ones? Purple ones?" Then a second later. "Okay, sit on the bed. Leg into the pants. You know the drill."

A bit later, Joon opened the door. "We're all done now."

Gilbert and Becky looked in, to see Edward situated under the covers, which were almost pulled up to his chin.

Even in the dim light, Gilbert could see that Edward still looked afraid. He made his way over to Edward's bed.

"You okay, buddy?" He asked, sitting next to Edward.

Edward shrugged, and wouldn't make eye contact with Gilbert.

"Are you afraid of the dark in here?"

"I don't like it. Where's Vincent and Vivienne?"

"In the kitchen, in their high chairs. They're fine. We'll get them in a minute. Would it help you to have a candle or a flashlight in here?"

"Yes, please," Edward whispered.

Gilbert looked at Joon. "Can you get him that?"

"Sure." Joon ducked out of the room, and returned a few minutes later, lit candle in hand. She placed it on the nightstand next to Edward's bed.

"Better?" Gilbert asked.

Edward nodded 'yes'.

"Are you cold? Do you need anything else?"

Edward looked down at his scissors, not wanting to ask for anything else. He was rather cold, though.

"He's cold," Joon said. "He's shivering."

Gilbert noticed that Joon was right. Edward wasn't just shaking in fear. He was actually cold.

Joon found another blanket, and laid it over Edward. "There you go," She said, wrapping it around him.

"Thank you," Edward said, softly.

"No problem. Goodnight, Edward," Joon said, placing a kiss on his head just as she'd done to Sam. She sort of saw Edward more as a child and less as an adult, so she tended to care for him as such.

"Goodnight, Joon. And Gilbert, and Becky."

"'Night Edward. Sweet dreams."


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this. Go read her stuff!

Ch. 37

Two weeks in to his new job on the ship, Anthony was having a terrible time. First, he'd been forced to tell the captain that he was pregnant, and the captain had not been too happy about it. He'd said something along the lines of 'I wouldn't have hired you if I'd known this'.

On top of that, he was sick all morning, dry heaving even after he'd emptied his stomach of all the food in it.

Then, he'd made a few calls home, first to talk to Johanna, then to Sweeney. The older man seemed quite disappointed when he picked up.

"Anthony, how are you?" He asked flatly.

"Fine. We've just docked in India. How are you?"

"Great. Happy to finally hear from my best friend and all." Anthony could sense the sarcasm in Sweeney's voice.

"Are you upset about something?" Anthony asked. He wasn't in the mood for this.

"Just that my best friend didn't bother to tell me that he'd be gone at sea for four months. Nothing big." Again, more sarcasm.

Anthony sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Todd. I was just stressed out. We've got so much going on, what with expecting the baby and Johanna's new job and they wanted me on the ship so quickly..."

"Right."

"It really wasn't anything personal. I'm sorry," Anthony repeated.

Now it was Sweeney's turn to sigh. "Yeah, alright, it's fine. How are you holding up with the morning sickness?"

"It's terrible," Anthony answered. "I'm sick for hours each day. I've lost about half a stone. Don't tell Johanna that, I don't want her to worry, but I can't keep anything down."

"That's not good, Anthony," Sweeney replied. "Maybe drinking some tea would help."

"Maybe. It's making me so tired, and I'm already too thin as it is. But anyway… How are you holding up? You must be close to two months now."

"Almost. Seven weeks. I've been sick in the mornings, but some days are better than others. Mrs. Lovett's been helping a lot. She takes care of me when I'm sick and has been making sure that I get enough to eat."

"That's good. She cares about you, Mr. Todd. I'm glad you have someone to help you out."

"Me too."

"I've got to go soon, but I'm glad you're doing okay," Anthony said. "I'll call you next week if you're around."

"Sure. Keep truckin', Anthony. Don't go dying on me."

"I'm not going to die, Mr. Todd. Have a baby, yes, but not die."

"Alright. Good. Talk to you later, Anthony."

"Talk to you soon, Mr. Todd."

Anthony hung up the phone. He was about to make another phone call, since he still had a few minutes left, but suddenly his stomach lurched.

"Not again," He sighed, clutching at his stomach. It felt like he'd been kicked there several times, his muscles were so sore. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. He hadn't eaten today, so he had no idea how it was that he had to throw up. He urged his body to stop, to keep down whatever it was that wanted to come up, but it was to no avail. Anthony didn't even make it to the side of the ship this time. Instead, he grabbed a nearby wastebasket and threw up into it.


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this. Go read her stuff!

Ch. 38

"ALICE!" Tarrant called. "ALICE! COME HERE!"

Alice, who had been feeding Daisy, ran into the bedroom, thinking there was some emergency.

"What's wrong, Tarrant? Are you okay?"

"I am most certainly not okay!" Tarrant replied.

Alice now noticed that there were clothes scattered about the room, and that Tarrant was dressed in his shirt with a towel around his hips.

"Well what's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong," Tarrant lisped. Obviously he was angry at something. His accent tended to change when he was upset. He threw a pair of dark blue pants toward Alice, barely missing her head. "None of these fit!"

"What? First off, don't throw things at me," Alice said, annoyed. "Have some respect. Secondly, how can they not fit? You're only two months pregnant!"

Tarrant frowned. "I've outgrown them already." Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes.

Alice felt a pang of sympathy for her husband. He was more self conscious than he usually let on. She came over to him and wrapped her arms around him. "You're not fat. You're pregnant. Likely with two babies. It makes sense that you'd show earlier than last time." She reached up and intercepted a tear as it rolled down Tarrant's cheek. "Come on, there's no reason to cry."

"Everyone's going to notice," Tarrant said sadly.

"So what if they do? They'll all be happy for you."

"But... Alice, what do I wear?"

"Hmm," Alice began looking through the pile of clothes on the floor. She pulled out a pair of black trousers with an elastic waistband.

"These will fit for sure. I think you wore these when you were pregnant with Daisy."

Tarrant pouted. "I was hoping not to have to wear those again so soon."

"Wear them for today and we'll go see Carlie and she can alter your clothes. Okay?"

"Okay," Tarrant said grudgingly. He slipped the trousers on, then began looking for a different shirt.

"Come get me when you're done. I'm just about to go give Daisy a bath, we can head out after that," Alice told him.

"Alright," Tarrant agreed.

Maybe it was the hormones, or maybe he was just overly tired. Tarrant wasn't really sure why, but the second that Alice left, he began to cry.

00

The walk to Carlie's house wasn't that far, but Tarrant didn't stop talking the whole way. Something about sunburn and his legs being tired... Alice had stopped paying attention about half a mile in. When they finally did arrive at Carlie's, Tarrant had a scowl on his face that would rival the Red Queen's.

"Hello, Carlie," Alice greeted her. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. What's wrong with my little brother?"

Tarrant glared at her. "It's hot, I've got a sunburn, and my clothes don't fit."

"Okay, okay." Tarrant handed her the pile of clothes he'd been holding, while Alice slipped inside with Daisy.

"You do look like you got a bit burnt, love," Carlie noted as he brother stepped into her house.

"I forgot to wear sunblock. Now I'll be red for weeks!"

"I've got an aloe plant in the back room, if you want to pick some. The gel from it will make your sunburn feel better."

"Good. Finally something going my way." Tarrant wandered out into the back.

"What's his problem?" Carlie asked Alice, once the two were alone.

"Hormones, I think. Or he's tired or hungry. He gets crazy when he's like that. He's also upset that his clothes don't fit. I think he's grown a bit faster than he expected."

"I see." Carlie picked up one of the garments from the pile Tarrant had given her. "I can let these out a bit. Won't be a problem."

"Carlie!" Tarrant called out, interrupting their conversation.

"Yes, brother?"

"Do you have any food?

"Um, yes. You're welcome to whatever is in the pantry."

From the living room, Carlie and Alice could hear Tarrant rummaging around the kitchen. He reappeared near them a few moments later, holding a rather large sandwich that seemed to be made of very random things.

"What is THAT?" Carlie asked, eyeing the food suspiciously.

"Peanut butter, pickles, Swiss cheese, bologna, and mustard on rye bread. Oh, and there's some strawberry jam somewhere on there too."

Carlie and Alice both cringed.

"Ew," Alice said. "That's horrible."

Tarrant raised an eyebrow. "I can't help what the babies want, Alice!" He took a bite of the sandwich to demonstrate.

"There's definitely two of them?" Carlie asked.

"We think so," Alice replied. "At least, it seems like it."

"Ooh! Two more little nieces or nephews! Or both!" Carlie squealed.

Tarrant began to reply, but suddenly started to turn pale.

"Are you okay?" Carlie and Alice asked, simultaneously.

"Gotta go." Tarrant handed the sandwich to Alice and was out of the room, and in the bathroom before either his sister or wife could bat an eye. Seconds later, they could hear him being sick.

"Not again," Alice sighed. "Well, I'd better go check on him."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for her help with this! Go read her stuff!

Ch. 39

It was a Sunday, the one day each week that Mrs. Lovett closed the pie shop.

Sweeney hadn't been feeling well lately, and he'd asked her to watch Emma for a bit.

She'd agreed. But that had been a few hours ago, and she hadn't heard from him at all since then.

She put the little girl down to sleep, and wondered where her tenant had gone. Usually he was in and out of the shop throughout the day, even if it was closed.

Since Emma was asleep, she decided to go investigate. Mrs. Lovett quietly climbed the stairs to Sweeney's shop, but found it to be empty. She then decided to check the room that he and Emma often stayed in. It was off behind the shop, and was just big enough for Sweeney and Emma.

She knocked on the door, but received no answer. Mrs. Lovett waited a moment before opening it.

"Mr. Todd?" She called, looking around.

"Over here..." Came a reply.

Mrs. Lovett followed the sound to Sweeney's bed, where he was sitting, wrapped up in four or five blankets. It was then that Mrs. Lovett noticed how cold it was in the room. The heat must've gone out.

"Mr. Todd! It's freezing in here!" She stated, walking towards him. Upon closer inspection, she could see that he was shivering, despite the blankets.

"I know," He said through clenched teeth.

"Well, why are you being silly and staying in here? Come downstairs and warm up." She grabbed Sweeney's arm and pulled him up. Two of the blankets fell off of his shoulders in the process.

Sweeney wasn't really in the mood to argue, so he followed his landlady out the door.

Once he was inside Mrs. Lovett's parlor, she sat him down on the sofa.

"Emma's sleeping. Let me get you something to keep you warm," She said, walking towards the closet. She pulled out a bright yellow Snuggie with peace signs all over it.

"Here we go."

Sweeney's eye twitched a little as she wrapped the neon garment around him, but damn, it was warm, and it felt good to be a little warmer.

When he felt well enough to talk, Sweeney motioned to the Snuggie. "What's with the paw prints?"

"What paw prints?"

"The ones on this Snuggie monstrosity. Why'd you get one with paw prints?"

Mrs. Lovett looked at Sweeney like he had grown an ironic mustache in under three seconds. "Those are peace signs, Mr. Todd."

Sweeney studied them more carefully. "So they are."

"I think you need to get your eyes checked."

"My eyes are fine, woman," Sweeney replied, scowling.

"I saw you nearly bump into the wall as we left your room. You had a hard time seeing it."

"Did not." Sweeney crossed his arms, as best he could.

"Fine, don't get your eyes checked. Just don't come crying to me when you walk into a wall or fall down or drive your car off a bridge."

"I am NOT going to do any of that," Sweeney huffed.

"Alright, then."

Sweeney wrapped the Snuggie around himself a little tighter and shivered again.

"Still cold, Mr. T?"

"Sorta," He answered softly. He was freezing again.

"I'll get you some warm tea, then. And another blanket."

"Thanks."

Suddenly Sweeney felt bad for yelling at Mrs. Lovett earlier. Here she was, trying to make him comfortable, and he had gone off on her. He made a mental note as she left the room to at least try to be nicer to her in the future.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for her help with this! Go read her stuff!

Ch. 40

While Sweeney was trying to warm up, Gilbert was just finishing up his typical Wednesday routine. Usually, on Wednesdays, he went food shopping and took Tommy with him. In the afternoon, he would go to the shelter and have his weekly appointment with Dr. Schnabel.

This time, he got to the shelter a bit early. His appointment was scheduled at 2, and it was 1:45. He waited outside in the hallway, as he usually did. A few minutes after he got there, he heard a door open. The man he'd spoken to a few weeks ago – Tom – stepped out.

Gilbert noticed that the young man looked a little bigger than he had the last time they'd spoken. He had to be close to his third trimester by now.

"Hey," Tom said as he walked towards Gilbert.

"Hey, man," Gilbert greeted him. "How's it going?"

Tom shrugged. "Eh, same shit, different day. You? By the way, I'm Tom. I don't think I introduced myself before."

"Cool. I'm okay, here for my checkup as usual."

"I give ya credit, man," Tom said. "I can't imagine having one kid, never mind two. But, I guess you're older, so maybe it's different for you."

Gilbert sighed. Tom's pity-me type of attitude was a little annoying. He himself had gone through something similar to what Tom was going through, and he'd come out okay. If anything, Gilbert's situation had been worse. Not that he told many people about it. It was a secret that only he, Amy, and his mother had known about.

"It'll be okay," Gilbert said, trying to sound reassuring. "Lots of men go through what you're going through all the time, and they turn out okay. If you want a good life for your baby, you'll give them a good life, even if you have to work really hard to do it at first."

"Yeah, right," Tom scoffed. "That's way easier said than done. I'm way too young to have a kid."

Gilbert frowned. His mind brought him back to his sophomore year of high school, when he'd been a lonely fifteen-year-old boy.

The other kids at school had picked on him a lot for having such a weird family. They mocked his obese mother, slow brother and dead father.

Most of the time, Gilbert tried to ignore them and focus on his schoolwork, but one day, some of the boys in his class took things a step too far. A group of three of them had gathered in the locker room, and jumped him as soon as the place was clear. They'd insulted him, beaten him, and shoved him to the ground. One of them- the biggest one, a big, fat senior named Joe- raped him. The other two boys kept Gilbert from moving his legs or arms. One of them stuffed a shirt into his mouth to keep him from screaming, and the three of them took turns with him.

The encounter had left Gilbert bruised and bloody. He remembered barely being able to drag himself home that day. He didn't go back to school for a week after that.

Two weeks later, he had started getting sick. Mostly it was just bouts of nausea and vomiting, especially in the mornings, but every day he felt more and more tired. It had scared Gilbert. He wondered if something was really wrong with him. Maybe one of those boys had given him a disease. His young mind couldn't really comprehend the reality of the situation, that he was pregnant.

Amy had been the only one who knew about what had happened. She had patched Gilbert up and held him while he cried and held ice to his bruises and all of that. So, when she noticed that her brother was getting sick all the time, and that he was having a hard time buttoning his jeans and that he seemed to be sleeping constantly, she had a pretty good idea of what was happening.

After school one day, she'd confronted him.

"How are you feeling, Gilbert?" She asked, closing the door behind them.

"Um... Tired," Gilbert answered honestly.

"Not sick? Hungry? Anything like that?"

"I'm kinda hungry. And nauseated. It's weird," He replied, resting a hand on his slightly rounded stomach.

"You seem like you've been sick for a while now."

Gilbert frowned. "A few weeks... I keep hoping it'll pass."

It was now clear to Amy that Gilbert had no idea what was going on. He looked scared and like he was about to cry. Amy came closer to him and pulled him into a hug.

"Gilbert, I think you need to take a pregnancy test."

"What?" Gilbert pulled back. "Why that?"

"Well... you're showing all the symptoms of pregnancy, and the gene does run in our family, after all."

So he'd ended up taking a test, which had come out positive. Amy had taken him to a doctor, who'd confirmed that he was two and a half months pregnant. He'd tried to hide the fact from his mother, but she'd noticed his belly when he'd gotten to five months, and she'd figured it out pretty fast. Oddly enough, she wasn't angry like he'd thought she would be.

He'd ended up giving birth on the last day of finals. He had felt something odd in the shower that morning, and had felt pain and off throughout the day, but had still made it to class and finished his tests. Only later, when the contractions became more frequent, did Amy rush him to the hospital. He'd given birth to a boy. He hadn't gotten to hold him. They'd taken the baby right after he'd been born to give to a family who was ready for children.

Still, not a day went by when Gilbert didn't at least consider him. He wondered how his son was, now that he was ten. Did they look the same? Did he have red hair, too? He didn't even know who the father was. He didn't really want to know. He just hoped that wherever the kid was, he was better off.

"Hey, you there?" Tom's voice snapped Gilbert back to reality.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking."

"Anything good?"

"Not really. Anyway, as I was saying, I think you'll be okay. Really."

"I hope you're right."

"If you want to talk any time… You know, to speak to someone who's been there, I can give you my phone number," Gilbert offered. Tom frustrated him a little but he understood that the boy was probably just scared.

"Sure. Thanks." Tom pulled out a cell phone and began entering in Gilbert's number as he read it off. "I appreciate it."


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this.

Ch. 41

"Hey, don't go doing anything too intense," One of the other crew members yelled at Anthony. "We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself or the baby," He started laughing. A few other crew members also joined in.

Anthony sighed and went back to mopping the deck. He tried his best to ignore the jokes everyone had been making all morning.

"So, are you technically the wife in your marriage? Since you carry the babies and all," Another man asked.

"I'm NOT considered the woman, no," Anthony snapped at him. He was really getting tired of this. "Just because I can have children does not make me any less of a man."

The crew started laughing hysterically at this statement.

"Oh, remember the days when men were actually men?" The guy asked another person.

"Back when only women would have the babies?"

"Guys, knock it off." Everyone turned to see a younger member of the crew, known to them all as Kelso. "Anthony does his job. Leave him alone."

Kelso was muscular and very strong, so none of the crew really wanted to mess with him too much. Not to mention that he was a lot younger than all of them, so they knew that he could likely win any fight just based on stamina.

A few of them mumbled their whatevers and went back to work, leaving Anthony alone.

"Thanks, mate," Anthony said, reaching out to shake Kelso's hand.

"No problem. You always work hard, there's no reason for them to be making wisecracks at you."

"Thanks again."

Kelso nodded. "Well, I've got some organizing to do below deck. If you like, stop by my cabin later, we can play a game of cards or somethin'."

"Yeah, sure," Anthony agreed. He was happy to have a prospective new friend on board. Especially one that could take on any people who made fun of him.

"Great. I'll be off shift at seven. See you later."

With that, Kelso walked away.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this!

Ch. 42

It took five days for Jack to get back to the US. When they finally did dock the boat, Angelica instantly rushed him off and insisted that he go see Dr. Schnabel before the day was out.

So, the two of them walked through the shelter's front door a bit later. Jack was feeling a bit woozy, having not eaten much that day. Angelica was trying to keep him upright as they walked. Ashley caught sight of them as they entered the common room.

"Jack! Angelica! It's nice to see you guys again!" She then noticed how Jack was leaning heavily on Angelica. "Um, are you okay, Jack?"

"Dizzy," He replied.

Ashley wrapped an arm around Jack's waist, and together she and Angelica led him to an exam room.

"Do you have any candy, or something else with lots of sugar? That'll make him less dizzy," Angelica asked once Jack was safely sitting down.

"We have some ice cream in the kitchen. I'll get you a bowl of it," Ashley said.

Jack nodded weakly. "Thanks."

Once Ashley had left, Angelica hopped up on the table and wrapped an arm around Jack, pulling him close to her. She kissed him on the forehead. "You'll be okay."

"I know. I just feel so tired," Jack replied, yawning. "And woozy."

"Ashley will be back soon, then you'll feel better."

"Okay."

Ashley did return a moment later, a small bowl of chocolate ice cream in hand. "Here you go. You'd better tell Dr. Schnabel about this, if it's happening a lot," She said, handing the treat to Jack.

Jack dove into the ice cream. "I will," He said in between bites.

"I was telling Jack that I think he has hypoglycemia and—"

Angelica was cut off by Jack moaning loudly.

"What's wrong?!" Angelica and Ashley asked at once, very concerned.

Jack put the ice cream down and held his head in his hands. "It hurts…"

"What does? Your head?" Ashley asked, going into nurse-mode.

"Yeah…I think it's…" Jack trailed off.

"What do you think it is? Where does it hurt?"

"I think it's brain freeze," Jack continued.

Both Angelica and Ashley sighed, and Angelica slapped Jack gently on the arm.

"Oi," Jack said, rubbing his arm. "What was that for?"

"A bit dramatic, are we?" Angelica asked, glaring at him. "I thought you were having an aneurysm!"

"It hurt like hell!" Jack replied, bracing himself for another smack. Angelica didn't hit him, though.

"You're a trip, Jack," Ashley said, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to go now. Dr. Schnabel will be in shortly."

"Okay." Jack picked up the ice cream again, and again began shoveling it into his mouth.

Angelica just sighed. Leave it to Jack to give himself a brain freeze twice in five minutes.

00

Dr. Schnabel came in and greeted Jack and Angelica very kindly. He was happy to see his former patients again. After some small talk about Angela and the new residents at the shelter, the doctor began his exam.

"You know how it goes, Jack. And can you put the ice cream down before we start, please?"

Jack sighed and put the bowl of ice cream down next to him. He then held out his arm so the doctor could take his blood pressure.

"Your blood pressure is normal," The doctor reported, marking it down in Jack's file. He then measured Jack's pulse, which was also normal. All that was left was to take Jack's weight and then do an ultrasound.

Dr. Schnabel pointed to the scale, and he and Jack walked over. Jack stood on it and frowned when the numbers stopped moving.

"That can't be right."

"We calibrate our instruments monthly… do you know for sure how far along you are?" The doctor asked.

Jack shrugged and stepped down. "A month or two?"

"That'll make a difference in your weight. We can do an ultrasound and find out for sure."

"Alright," Jack agreed. He got back up on the exam table and laid down. Angelica held his hand as the doctor prepped him. He flinched as the doctor applied the ice-cold gel to his stomach. "It's cold! You can't get anything warmer than that?"

"Sorry," Schnabel said. "It's just how we do the procedure. The temperature of the gel keeps the wand from overheating. If you're ready now, we'll start."

Jack nodded in agreement.

The doctor moved the ultrasound wand around a bit before settling in one spot. He stared at the monitor for a moment before turning it to face Jack and Angelica.

"Well, the reason you're heavier than you were last time is because you're eight weeks pregnant with twins," Dr. Schnabel explained.

"Twins…" Jack repeated. "Two of them."

"Yes, two babies."

"So that's two more kids running around."

"Yes, it's definitely two babies."

Jack looked like he was about to faint.

"Are you okay?" Angelica asked, nervously.

"Y… yes. I think so."

The doctor allowed the couple a few moments to look at the image, before promising to print them out a copy.

"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss while we're here?" The doctor asked, as he cleaned the gel off Jack's stomach.

"No-" Jack started, but Angelica cut him off.

"Jack keeps getting dizzy if he doesn't eat."

"That's pretty normal. Most people get dizzy if they don't eat," The doctor said.

"It happens every two or three hours, though," Angelica added.

"That's not normal. Explain exactly what happens."

"Well," Angelica said, looking at Jack. "He gets dizzy and then faints if he doesn't eat. If he eats sugar, like candy or ice cream, he's fine for awhile."

"What if he eats regular food?"

"If he does that before he gets dizzy, he stays fine for a while."

"Hm," Schnabel began looking through one of the drawers in the room. He pulled out a blood sugar monitor, and Jack noticed that it was similar to the one Will used. "Usually diabetics use this, but it'll give me an accurate reading of your blood sugar. I need to prick your finger to get a reading."

Jack allowed the doctor to take his hand, not even flinching when the needle hit him.

"It's normal for now. But I'm going to give you this monitor. If it goes below 70mg/DL, then you have to eat soon. Record the numbers, maybe we can see exactly what's going on and when, and bring the list back to me in two weeks."

"Okay," Jack agreed.

"And make sure you're careful. If you get dizzy and fall, you could hurt the babies," Schnabel warned.

"Yeah… about that, I have a question," Jack said, looking a bit nervous.

"Yes?"

"If I happened to drink some rum, say, a month or so into the pregnancy, would it mess up the children?"

"Well.. it could, yes," Schnabel replied. "Why? Did you do that?"

Jack paled. "Maybe."

"The babies looked healthy on the ultrasound, so I think they're okay. But DO NOT do that again!"

"Okay, okay. I promise I won't," Jack said. "I'm sorry."

Dr. Schnabel looked annoyed, but didn't voice it. "I'll see you in two weeks, Jack," was all he said.

Jack nodded, and watched as the doctor left the room. Once he'd closed the door, Jack turned to Angelica.

"Do you think I pissed him off?" He asked. "Because I think I did."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS RAPE. DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE BOTHERED BY THAT. THANKS. **

Also, thanks to Phish Tacko for working on this!

Ch. 43

Masbath had been working at the Crane household for almost two weeks. He didn't mind the job. Jackson was really cute, and fun to play with. The young man noticed, though, that this week had been particularly hard for Ichabod. It seemed like every day, he slept more, and when he was awake, he was sicker than the previous day. Overall, it seemed like Masbath was taking care of Ichabod more than he was taking care of Jackson.

Today, for instance, Ichabod had been sick four times. It wasn't even one o'clock yet. Masbath had taken care of him as best he could, rubbing the constable's back, getting him water, and helping him back to bed.

Because Ichabod felt so terrible all the time, he usually refused to eat or drink unless Masbath forced him to. That in itself was a hard thing to do. Usually he had to guilt Ichabod into it, telling him that it wasn't fair to Jackson, Katrina, or the unborn baby if he didn't at least TRY to eat, but it was getting harder and harder to do.

He'd just changed Jackson when he heard Ichabod's footsteps running from the bedroom to the bathroom, once again. Masbath sighed, put Jackson in his crib, and went to help. He found Ichabod on his knees, dry heaving. His shirt was off, and Masbath noticed that he could see Ichabod's ribs. He was beginning to look out of proportion: extremely thin everywhere except in his stomach, and that was only because of the baby. Masbath figured that if not for that, he'd probably look like a starved refugee or something to that extent.

When Ichabod seemed finished, Masbath helped him up and offered him some mouth wash, since he knew the constable likely wouldn't drink water right then.

"Why's your shirt off?" He asked once Ichabod spat the mouthwash out. He began leading the constable back to his bedroom, wrapping an arm around him to keep the man steady.

"It was hot," Ichabod whispered, leaning heavily on Masbath. "So hot…"

Masbath helped Ichabod sit down on the bed. "I think I need to take you to a doctor, Mr. Crane," He said, studying him. Besides looking extremely gaunt, Ichabod's hair was a wild mess. He obviously hadn't brushed it in a while. Probably didn't have the energy to do it.

"No, no doctors," Ichabod mumbled, curling into a fetal position on the bed.

"You really need help, though," Masbath replied, wrapping two blankets around Ichabod. He was shivering now, instead of hot. "More help than I can give. If you can get dressed now, I can get Jackson and take you over to the shelter before Katrina gets home."

He heard Ichabod sigh. "I'll be fine."

"Can you promise that?" Masbath asked.

Ichabod was quiet. He really did feel horrible, and it just seemed to be getting worse.

Masbath took Ichabod's silence as a 'no'.

"Come on, then. I'll get you a shirt and some socks and shoes and we can go."

Ichabod frowned, but pulled himself up. He felt terribly weak. Thankfully, Masbath noticed that he was having a hard time, and helped him move so he was leaning up against the bed frame. Once he was sure that Ichabod wasn't going to fall over, he began rooting around through his closet, pulling out a heavy gray sweater. Masbath debated asking Ichabod if he could dress himself, but the answer was pretty clear.

"Okay, arms up, Mr. Crane," He instructed.

Ichabod looked at him sadly, probably ashamed that he needed help getting a sweater on, but did as he was told. Masbath got it on in no time at all.

"Where do you keep your socks?" He asked when he was done.

"Second drawer on the right."

Masbath nodded, and pulled out a pair of thick wool socks. "It's cold today."

"Okay," Ichabod whispered. He let Masbath put his socks on for him too.

"I'm going to get your shoes."

Masbath returned to the room a few seconds later, and helped Ichabod put a pair of sneakers on.

"Okay. Good. Let me get Jackson and I'll help you out to the car."

It was a bit of a struggle, carrying Jackson on one arm with his other arm wrapped around Ichabod's waist, but eventually the three made it out to Masbath's Altima. The young man had Ichabod buckled in the front seat within a minute, and then put Jackson in a car seat in the back.

"Ready?" He asked, getting into the driver's seat.

"I didn't know you had a license," Ichabod said weakly. He leaned his head against the window.

"Yes, I got it after I graduated," Masbath said, pulling out of the driveway.

It turned out that Masbath was a very good driver. Ichabod was extremely grateful for this. He didn't think he could've handled a rough ride.

When they got to the shelter, Masbath pulled into a spot near the front. "You've mentioned that they have a nurse who works there?"

"Yes… Her name's Ashley."

"I'm going to go see if she can come help me get you guys out. It'd be easier with another person."

"Fine," Ichabod agreed. He didn't like the prospect of having to have the young woman help him up to the door, but he wasn't in any real position to argue right then.

Masbath came back outside a few minutes later, having explained everything to Ashley.

She carefully helped Ichabod out of the car, as Masbath carried Jackson in.

Soon enough, the group found themselves in the common room.

"Dr. Schnabel's in with another patient right now, but I'll tell him it's urgent," Ashley said, helping Ichabod sit down.

Ichabod just rested for a while. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. The sound of a door opening and a loud THUMP brought him out of his trance. He glanced up to see Dr. Schnabel helping another man who was wearing a pair of sunglasses and had apparently fallen on his way out of the exam room.

"Sheldon! Are you okay?" The doctor asked.

"Yeah, stupid blindness," Ichabod heard the man reply. He seemed frustrated. He also had a terrible choice in clothing. It was still winter, and the man was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of gray shorts. If he was blind, that explained it then, at least, Ichabod thought to himself.

"Can you make it to your room without falling again?" Schnabel asked.

"Yeah, whatever," The man waved him off. "I'll be fine."

Ichabod watched the doctor watch the man walk down the hall, holding on to the walls along the way.

Finally, the doctor turned his attention to the constable.

"Ah, Ichabod," Schnabel said, smiling at him. His smile then turned into a frown. "You look terrible. Let's see what's going on."

00

Less than an hour later, Ichabod was in the hospital. Dr. Schnabel had diagnosed him with a severe case of the flu. Ichabod's immune system was not acting properly, and the doctor was honestly surprised that the man was even still conscious at that point.

The doctors had taken him right in and hooked him up to various IVs and an oxygen cannula because he wasn't breathing that well. Masbath stayed by Ichabod's side, mentally kicking himself for not noticing that sooner. How did he miss the fact that Ichabod was having a hard time breathing? He felt it should've been obvious.

The medications that the doctors gave Ichabod made him very, very calm, to a point where he'd spend very long periods of time just staring into space at the wall or ceiling. For now, the doctors were hoping that the oxygen and nutrients that they were giving him, along with a few days of bed rest, would give him the strength to recover.

After a while of just staring, Ichabod finally spoke.

"Masbath?" He whispered, looking around to find the boy.

"I'm right here," Masbath answered, coming closer to Ichabod's bed.

"I can't see that clearly."

"It's the medication. It makes you fuzzy. Do you need something?"

Ichabod nodded 'yes', but began coughing harshly before he could talk any more.

Masbath handed him a tissue and helped him wipe his nose. Despite the fact that Ichabod was about as weak as a kitten, Masbath was still somewhat surprised that the constable didn't fight him much.

"Is Katrina coming?" Ichabod finally got out.

"She's coming straight from work," Masbath replied. "She'll be here soon."

Ichabod nodded. "And Jackson?"

"Dr. Schnabel kept him at the shelter. Ashley's watching him. We were afraid that he

might catch the flu you have if he were to stay nearby."

"Good idea," Ichabod said before coughing again.

It was quiet for a few moments, before a doctor walked in. The man introduced himself and picked up Ichabod's chart. He pulled up a chair and took a seat next to Ichabod's bed.

"Looks like you have a severe case of the flu."

"So they told me," Ichabod answered softly.

"Yes, well, the only course of treatment we can really offer is helping your body to rest, so that it can recover. That means you'll likely be here for a few days, maybe a week."

Ichabod shook his head. He was contemplating how boring this stay was going to be, when something else crossed his mind.

"I, um… well, I assume you have it written down that I'm… pregnant," He finished, blushing a little. In the back of his mind, he expected the doctor to make some cruel joke about it, just like his coworkers had.

However, the doctor kept his professional demeanor.

"We did note that in your medical records."

"Is the baby… I mean, is it still…?"

"Is it alive? You're still pregnant, if that's what you're asking. Obviously, there is a risk to the fetus with you being so ill, but I'm confident that we can help you without losing the baby."

Ichabod breathed a sigh of relief. Though he hadn't intended to have this baby, he still felt a strong love for it.

"For now, just relax. We're taking care of everything."

Ichabod nodded in agreement, then looked up when he heard the door open. Katrina walked in, still wearing her work attire. She immediately came to her husband's side.

"Ichabod, dear, how are you?" She asked. She seemed very concerned, which surprised Ichabod a little. Lately she'd been fairly apathetic to him when he was sick. After the novelty of finding out he was pregnant had worn off, she'd gone back to her regular cold self.

"Sick," Ichabod answered honestly. "The doctor here says I have to stay here for a few days to recover."

"I see. And the baby?" She asked.

"It's alive."

"Good."

Ichabod reached out, trying to take her hand. She took hold of it and ran her other hand through his hair. It was sweaty and knotted.

"I'll leave you three alone," The doctor said, standing up to leave. "A nurse will be here in about an hour to bring you something to eat and give you some more medication."

When the doctor left, Katrina looked over towards Masbath.

"Thank you for taking care of my husband," She said. "I know he can be difficult."

"Still conscious, I can still hear you," Ichabod said.

Katrina forced a smile at him. "Sorry, love."

Ichabod looked away, then yawned.

"Are you tired?"

"Yes," Ichabod replied to his wife. "It's taken a lot out of me."

"You should sleep, sir," Masbath said quietly. "We'll go home and come back in a few hours."

"Alright," Ichabod agreed, yawning again.

Katrina stood up, gave Ichabod a quick kiss on the cheek, and began walking away. Masbath paused before leaving, and came over to Ichabod's side, pulling his blankets up.

"We'll see you later."

With that, the two left the room.

00

Around midnight that evening, Ichabod was lying in bed, trying to sleep. Since he'd been lying in bed all day, he wasn't particularly tired. If anything, he was bored, but he knew that he needed to rest if he wanted to get better. At least whatever they'd given him had made him feel better. His nose did not feel as stuffy and he didn't feel nauseated. In fact, he'd even been able to eat some soup earlier without throwing it back up.

As Ichabod closed his eyes, he heard the sound of footsteps outside of his room. It sounded like someone was running. There were some muffled voices, too. Ichabod couldn't really make out more than someone telling another person that they had to "get him back" and that they had to "search the entire floor".

The constable didn't think much of it. The doctors were professionals, after all. Maybe an elderly person had wandered out of his room, and they were looking for him. Or a child on another floor had gotten bored and went to find something to do.

After the footsteps went away again, Ichabod began to finally fall asleep. He was just about to fully enter dreamland when the door to his room opened. Ichabod cracked his eyes open, expecting to see a nurse or an orderly standing there, probably to switch over his IVs or give him some more medication. He was surprised when he looked up to see a rather large, scary looking man staring at him from across the room.

From what he could make out, the man was huge. At least six foot five, three hundred pounds. He had no hair and a snarl on his face that rivaled Katrina's when she was angry.

Even if he were at his healthiest, there was no way that Ichabod could take this man down. The guy would crush his tiny frame like he was a bug. So, he did the next best thing he could think of: He closed his eyes and hoped that the man went away. Maybe if the guy thought he was asleep, he'd leave him alone.

This did not happen, though. After a few seconds, he could still hear the man breathing loudly.

"I know you're awake," The man whispered. His tone was predatory. He took a few steps towards the bed. "I saw you looking at me."

Well, that was the end of Ichabod's plan. Maybe reasoning with the man would work?

"Please, I don't want any trouble," Ichabod said, watching as the man got closer and closer. Now that the man was only a few feet away, Ichabod could make out what looked like a swastika carved on his forehead.

"There won't be any trouble if you stay quiet," The man replied, grinning.

Ichabod's eyes got wide. "What... what do you mean?"

"Just shut up. You talk too much." The man moved even closer, until he was standing only inches away from the bed. Frantically, Ichabod hit the call button to get a nurse in the room, but no one seemed to be coming.

"Don't you think I was smart enough to disable that at the nurses station?" The guy asked.

Ichabod swallowed nervously. "Please don't hurt me."

"It won't hurt that much."

With that, the man clamped his hand over Ichabod's mouth, preventing him from screaming. He ripped the IV's out of the constable's arms and flipped him over so he was on his stomach. Once Ichabod was facedown on the bed, the man removed his hand from Ichabod's mouth and shoved his head into the pillow. It didn't take long to expose him.

"Now, be a good boy and keep quiet," The man whispered, bending down and biting Ichabod's ear. The dark haired man just whimpered in reply.

Only a few second later, he felt the bigger man enter him, tearing him as he did so. Unable to scream, Ichabod began to cry, tears running down his face and into the pillow. He could barely breathe. The man was holding him down from behind, thrusting into him. Thankfully, he lost consciousness soon enough.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Many thanks to Phish Tacko for her work beta'ing this.

Ch. 44

Sweeney was having another bad day. He'd woken up sick and cold, and had spent the majority of the morning throwing up. Mrs. Lovett had been too busy with her shop to help him at all, and for some reason, it made him sad. The woman may have annoyed him sometimes, but truth be told, Sweeney kind of liked having someone take care of him.

As soon as he'd recovered somewhat, Emma had started screaming. She's been doing that a lot, lately – crying for no reason. Mrs. Lovett said it was something called "colic," and that sometimes babies acted like that, but it was still frustrating and it kept him up at night. Now, the baby was at it again, screaming as loudly as possible.

"Yes, Emma, I'm coming," Sweeney muttered as he stood up from his chair. He'd been resting for a bit, but apparently that was not to be. He walked over to the baby and picked her up. She wasn't dirty and she had just eaten recently, so he had no idea what was wrong.

"Calm down, Emma, calm down," He cooed, rocking her back and forth. "Shh…"

It didn't work. The baby still continued to cry.

After close to an hour of rocking Emma, talking to her, even singing a little to her, she eventually quieted down and started to fall asleep.

'Finally,' Sweeney thought to himself as he put his daughter down in her crib. Maybe now he could relax a bit.

With Emma tucked in, Sweeney decided to go see if Mrs. Lovett was busy. He still had yet to see her at all.

"Mrs Lovett?" He called, walking down the stairs.

"I'm outside, Mr. T!" She called back.

Sweeney glanced over and noticed that she was outside, in back of the shop. He took a few steps towards her, but smacked right into... something. He couldn't actually see what it was. Stunned a bit, he stepped back, only to notice that he'd walked right into the glass doors that'd been installed last year.

"Damn it!" He yelled. His nose felt like it was broken, and it was bleeding, not to mention that almost everyone was staring at him.

Mrs. Lovett heard him and came rushing over.

"Are you okay, Mr. T?" She asked, concerned. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to him. "Tilt your head back to stop the bleeding."

"Ah think mah nose is broken," Sweeney said as he leaned back.

"Let me see when it stops bleeding."

Sweeney did as he was told, and Mrs. Lovett looked him over.

"It's not broken," She said. "You just hit it hard."

"It feels broken."

"It's definitely not broken."

Sweeney sighed, unwilling to continue arguing. "Fine. But when it sets the wrong way and I look funny, I'll blame you."

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. "Stop it. You need glasses."

"I don't need glasses!"

"Are you going to argue with me about everything today? I swear, Mr. T, you're worse than my ex mother-in-law."

"My vision is perfectly fine! And I'm not arguing. It's not arguing if I'm right."

Mrs. Lovett just stared at him, saying nothing, wondering if her friend would realize how dumb he sounded.

"Okay, yeah, that was stupid," He finally admitted. "Can you take me to the eye doctor, then?"

"Sure. I'll take you after the dinner rush is over."

"Thanks."

00

A couple hours later, Sweeney and Emma were in the back seat of Mrs Lovett's car, and the group was heading towards the local eye doctor. The man had agreed to take them at the last moment, after Mrs Lovett had pleaded with him to give them an appointment.

Once at the doctor's office, Sweeney took a seat in the waiting area, holding Emma on his lap. Mrs. Lovett picked up a magazine and began to read as they waited for the doctor to call them in. After a few minutes, she stood up, and went to ask the secretary where the bathroom was.

While Mrs Lovett was gone, the last patient that the doctor had walked out of the exam room. Sweeney couldn't believe who it was.

"Judge Turpin," Sweeney said, glaring at the judge.

"Mr. Barker," The judge replied, grinning evilly. "So interesting to see you here. And you've brought your daughter, too." Turpin reached up, and stroked Emma's cheek with his thumb.

"Thankfully she didn't get your looks."

Sweeney moved back, pulling Emma with him. "Don't you EVER touch her."

"Here we go again with this. What are you going to do to me?"

Knowing he was cornered, since Emma was there, Sweeney glanced over at the secretary, who was doing a good job at pretending to not pay attention to what was going on.

"Answer me, Barker," The judge hissed.

"I'll find a way to get you back for everything," Sweeney whispered, scowling at the judge. "I'll get you when you least expect it."

The judge looked as if he was about to reply something, when the doctor walked out into the waiting area.

"Is there a problem here?" The doctor asked, looking at the judge, then at Sweeney.

"No. No problem at all," The judge replied, smiling at the doctor. "I'll see you later, Mr. Todd."

Sweeney just scowled at him.

Mrs. Lovett happened to exit the bathroom at that moment, just as Judge Turpin had left. She noticed the look on Sweeney's face, and came over to him.

"Is everything okay, Mr. T?" She asked.

"I'll tell you later," Sweeney replied. "Let's just get this exam over with."

00

Later that evening, Sweeney, Mrs. Lovett and Emma returned to the shop. Mrs. Lovett noticed that Sweeney was being extremely quiet on the ride home.

"Aren't you happy, Mr. T?" She asked, trying to get him to talk. "You've got a prescription and you'll have good vision in a few days."

Sweeney just shrugged indifferently, and continued staring out the window as she drove. When they got back to the shop, Sweeney quietly followed Mrs. Lovett inside, taking a seat on her couch once he was in her living area. He put Emma down next to him. She was asleep, at least.

"I'll bring us something to eat. I'll be right back," Mrs Lovett said, smiling kindly at Sweeney.

Sweeney just grunted in reply.

When Mrs. Lovett reappeared a bit later, she was surprised to see Sweeney sitting with his head in his hands. She quickly put the tray of food she had down, and came to his side.

"What's wrong?!" She asked him, concerned. "Why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset," Sweeney whispered, but his voice gave it away. He was obviously crying.

"You're crying," She said. "I can tell. What's wrong?" She wrapped an arm around him.

Suddenly, Sweeney leaned towards her. Nellie pulled him into a hug, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. For a few moments, she just held him, letting him cry. When he finally seemed to calm, she spoke again.

"Tell me what's wrong now?"

"I'm just tired. I had a long night, a long day... Emma keeps crying… When we were at the doctor, Judge Turpin appeared..." He trailed off, more tears falling down his cheeks.

"Aw, it's okay, Mr. Todd. It's okay." She held him a little tighter, and ran a hand through his hair.

For a bit longer, Sweeney continued to cry. It felt good to let go of the feelings he had deep inside.

Soon enough, Sweeney began to really feel tired. Mrs. Lovett could hear him yawn. She was just about to suggest that he sleep there for the evening, when she realized he was already asleep in her arms.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Thank you to Phish Tacko for her work on this. Go read her stuff!

Ch. 45

Mort had been feeling sick. Dizzy, nauseous and tired. Some days were good, some were bad.

Maryanne was concerned, but Mort continually brushed it off as nothing but a stomach virus. Nonetheless, she continued to care for him as best she could. Today happened to be one of the bad days.

It'd started off when Heather had come to watch Mort for a little bit and give Maryanne a break, and had bought her son breakfast, homemade pancakes.

She knocked on his door, and found her son awake, lying in bed and staring at the wall.

"Mortybear, I bought you your favorite breakfast!" She announced, walking up to his bed.

"Banana pancakes! And I even put a happy face on it with chocolate chips for you!"

Mort turned to face her. "Thanks, mom, I-" He took one look at the food, and started to turn pale.

"Are you okay?" Heather asked.

Mort shook his head, and quickly grabbed the bucket near his bed that Maryanne had given him in case he felt sick. A second later, he began to throw up what little contents he had in his stomach.

Heather put the tray down, and sat next to her son, rubbing his back as he was sick and pulling his hair back. After what felt like forever, he seemed to be finished.

"I'm sorry," He said, putting the bucket down on the floor. "I... as soon as I smelled the pancakes I felt sick."

"That's odd," Heather noted. "I mean, you were nauseous before, but not because of smell?"

Mort shrugged. "A lot of things have been weird lately."

"Well I'm sorry about that. If I'd known, I'd have never made them."

"Not your fault." He glanced over at the food. "Can you, uh, maybe get those out of here, though?"

"Oh, sure." Heather picked up the tray and took it outside. She spent the rest of the morning with her son, trying to help him feel better as best she could.

00

Eventually, Heather and Maryanne switched places, with Heather watching Anakin and Maryanne staying with Mort. Maryanne was very determined to figure out why Mort was still sick after so many days, and had snagged his medical file from the hospital. She figured some research couldn't hurt, especially if Mort was going to fight her on getting any real treatment.

First, though, she had some questions for him.

"Okay, Mort. Just answer these questions and I'll let you get back to doing nothing,"She joked.

Mort frowned. "It's not like I _want_ to feel like this."

"I know, I'm just kidding. Okay, first question. What was the last thing you were able to keep down?"

"I think I had a sandwich last night. But that came back up earlier when mom bought me pancakes."

"So the pancakes made you sick?"

"The smell of them did."

"Okay," Maryanne said, scribbling some notes. "And when was your last cycle?"

"Cycle?"

Maryanne blushed a little. "You know... Your, um, monthly friend."

"Oh. That. Around the week of the 2nd."

"March 2nd?"

"February 2nd."

Maryanne thought about that for a moment. "That was over five weeks ago."

"Okay." Mort glanced down at his hands, as he was picking his nails nervously.

Maryanne decided to let that go, for now at least.

"Last question. Are you allergic to anything?"

"Not that I know of."

"Okay, thanks."

"That's it?" Mort asked, looking confused.

"Yeah, I need to do some research. Go ahead and sleep or rest or whatever. I'm going to get my laptop."

"Okay," Mort replied.

Maryanne had gotten up an gotten to the door when she heard Mort groan. She turned back around to face him. "What's wrong?"

"Can you bring a heat pack when you come back?" He asked, holding a hand to his stomach.

"Sure. Stomach bothering you?"

Mort nodded. "Feels like really bad cramps."

"Yeah, okay. Maybe you're getting your..." Maryanne could see Mort blushing, so she decided to stop, "...I'll just go get it."

"Thanks."

Maryanne nodded, and left the room.

00

As the afternoon progressed, Maryanne tried to do research while Mort tried to sleep. However the sounds he was making stole her attention instead.

"Gah," Mort cried out, as he tried to grab onto something that he obviously was dreaming was near him. "Can't.. don't make me," He whispered fearfully.

Maryanne looked at him. "Can't do what?"

"CAN'T SLEEP... THE CLOWNS WILL EAT ME!" He replied, turning and looking straight at her.

Maryanne's eyes got wide. This was REALLY creepy, especially since she knew Mort was still asleep.

"Um, you're already asleep," She said, as calmly as she could.

Mort curled back up onto the bed, gripping the sheets. "I don't want them to eat me," he said in a soft, scared voice.

Sighing, Maryanne thought it best to wake him up now.

"Mort!" She said, shaking him gently. "Time to get up."

It only took a few seconds for him to wake up. He glanced around the room nervously.

"What happened? I had the worst nightmare, about..."

"Clowns?"

"How'd you know?!" Mort asked, shocked. "Oh my God, it wasn't real, was it?!"

"No. You were talking in your sleep. Even opened your eyes. It was kinda creepy."

"Oh..." Mort looked embarrassed again. "Sorry."

"It's okay. It's not your fault."

Mort frowned. "Did you find anything in your research?"

Maryanne nodded. "Well, sort of."

"And?"

"Well...I think you need to see if you're expecting again."

Mort took a deep breath, and took a second to think before replying.

"I kinda knew you'd say that. Explains things a bit."

"I think it's just hard for your body to cope with it. Your last pregnancy was difficult, right? So maybe this time your body is trying to deal with the baby and is having a harder time healing."

"I guess it's possible. So then, what do I do? Can I keep the baby?"

"Yes, we'll just have to find the right supplements to help you along. Things should get easier for you over time."

"Okay." Mort looked kind of sad.

"Are you okay?" Maryanne asked after a few moments of silence.

"Kinda nervous about the prospect of being a father again, to be honest," He replied, not meeting her gaze. "And are you ready? You're a lot younger than me..."

"I'm old enough. Lots of 27-year-olds have kids."

"I guess."

"Are you going to tell your mom?"

Mort shrugged. "I'll wait until I find out for sure. No use getting her all excited about having another grandchild if it's not a hundred percent."

"That's fair. I understand. I'll swipe a few tests from the hospital tomorrow when I'm on shift," Maryanne explained. "Then you can take a few tests and we'll know."

"Okay." Mort still refused to meet her gaze.

Maryanne forced a smile, and took Mort's hand. "It'll all work out, Mortybear. I promise."


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Thank you to Phish Tacko for her work on this. Go read her stuff!

Ch. 46

One thing that Alice, Carlie, and Mirana all noticed was that Tarrant's mood swings during this pregnancy were far worse than the ones he had in his first pregnancy. Often, he would go from sad to angry, or angry to happy in mere minutes. It was scary. Alice could never predict how his moods would go, either, because of how quickly they'd change.

This particular morning, Tarrant was back working on his hats, trying to get his mind off of the general sense of discomfort he felt constantly. However, he was starting to get into a bad mood. He was missing some fabric that he'd thought he'd had. Besides that, he'd been having flashbacks all morning to the night when Stayne had raped him, even though it was over a year prior. He just couldn't get his mind off of it, and it hurt him deeply.

Mirana walked in just as he was throwing a bolt of fabric at the wall.

"Tarrant? What's wrong?" Mirana asked, dodging the cloth as it hit the door.

"Nothing," Tarrant said, scowling. "Nothing's wrong."

"Something's obviously bothering you. Tell me what's on your mind."

Tarrant felt angry until he looked at Mirana's eyes. It was clear that she truly cared and wanted to help him. He glanced at the door, then back at her, then back at the door.

"Want me to close the door?"

"Please," Tarrant whispered.

Mirana nodded and shut the door, then walked back towards Tarrant. "Now, tell me what's wrong."

Tarrant tried not to cry, but he couldn't help it. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes almost instantly.

Mirana noticed this and pulled him into a hug. "My poor Hatter. Why are you crying?"

Tarrant sniffled, resting his head on Mirana's shoulder as she rubbed his back.

"I keep thinking of it," He finally admitted. "I can't stop thinking of it. It keeps me awake at night."

"Thinking of what?"

Tarrant began to cry harder, his body shaking as he sobbed. "That night... with... with Stayne..."

Mirana sighed, and held him a little tighter.

"Shh, shh. I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry he did that to you."

"You don't understand. He took everything from me."

"You mean, you were... inexperienced, prior?"

Tarrant nodded. "I hadn't... he took it all. Made me so dirty, filthy, and I'm still dirty... I don't understand why Alice loves me, or why you're friends with me. Carlie's my sister, she has an obligation, but-"

Mirana shook her head and pulled back a little so she could look Tarrant in the eyes.

"Stop that!" She scolded him, causing him to stop sniffling for a minute, afraid that she would indeed tell him that she agreed that she had no idea why they were friends.

"Stop talking about yourself that way," She continued. "You're not filthy or dirty. He's the disgusting person, not you. You're beautiful, Tarrant. Alice loves you because she thinks you're beautiful. I love you as a friend because I can see how great you are on the inside. Please, don't ever think such bad things about yourself."

"O-okay." Tarrant rubbed his eyes, wiping some of the tears away. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and blew his nose.

"Are you feeling better?" Mirana asked.

Tarrant nodded 'yes'.

"Good. I've got some business to attend to, but... Keep your chin up, Tarrant, alright?"

Tarrant nodded again. "Thanks, Mirana. You're a good friend."


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Thanks to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this.

Ch. 47

Gilbert sighed, and laid back on the couch, resting his head on a small pile of pillows.

Tommy was finally asleep, and now Gilbert had some time to rest himself, which was great because he really wasn't feeling too hot that day. He'd had another one of his food binges the previous night and ever since he'd woken up, he'd felt sick. At first, he'd thought he'd just overdone it on the ice cream and cereal and leftover Indian food, but as his stomach began to make really weird sounds, he was starting to think that perhaps week-old Chicken Tikka Masala was a really, really bad idea.

Gilbert's stomach gave off another weird sound and a wave of nausea swept over him.

"Yeah, really bad idea," He told himself. He rubbed his belly, trying to calm it, but it wasn't much use. It was just a matter of time before he would have to throw up. At least, he hoped, he would feel better afterward.

For the next few minutes, he stayed in the same position, hoping that the weird sounds would stop. Besides feeling nauseous, he felt kind of bloated, like his jeans were pressing into him, so he unbuttoned those to get some relief. That was probably more weight gain than food poisoning, though, he figured. He was two months pregnant but looked closer to three.

"Definitely have to stop eating like that," He said to himself. "Wait, why am I talking to myself? I need a life."

He glanced at the clock. Becky would be home in another few minutes. Briefly, he wondered if maybe she'd have some pity on him and would get him some Pepto-Bismol.

00

Becky arrived home to find Gilbert groaning on the couch.

"Uh, you okay?" She asked, setting her bag down. She walked to the couch and took a seat on the floor, near Gilbert.

"No. I think the Indian food is trying to kill me from the inside," He replied, groaning again.

"Yeah, we probably should've thrown that out a few days ago." Becky moved Gilbert's hand, and began rubbing his stomach, trying to help him feel better. "Anything I can get you?"

"Pepto-Bismol."

"Sure."

Becky pushed herself up and went to the bathroom to get the medicine out of the cabinet. She was just about to turn around and walk back out when the door flung open, and Gilbert ran past her. He bent down and started to get sick.

"Oh, good Lord," Becky said, watching as Gilbert threw up something that she could only describe as absolutely horrible. "Maybe it really was trying to kill you."

"Ugh," Gilbert sighed, throwing up again. "Make it stop..."

Becky kneeled down and pulled his hair back so he wouldn't get any vomit in it.

After what seemed like forever, Gilbert finally stopped being sick.

"Better now?" Becky asked.

"A little. You know what would be great right now?"

"A shitload of anti-nausea medication?"

"No. Some Chinese food."

And with that, Gilbert was throwing up again.

Becky wrinkled her nose.

"You can't be serious."

"Totally... serious," Gilbert said in between heaves. "Can... you get it?"

"You amaze me. Yeah, if you really want it, I'll get it."

Finally feeling like he was done, Gilbert rested his head on the seat. "You're the best, Becky. The best."


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Many thanks to Phish Tacko for her work on this!

Ch. 48

With Joon at work, Sam had decided to go grocery shopping. He'd left the kids with old Mrs. Meyers next door and had headed out.

Even though it was a chore, Sam enjoyed it. It was like a short reprieve from the boredom of being cooped up in the house and the responsibility of parenthood.

Sam was in a good mood, and he leisurely strolled through the supermarket, looking at various products. Soon enough he came across the samples that were put out every day.

This time the store had laid out small cups of gummy bears and other candies.

Smiling to himself, Sam picked up one of the cups, took the top off and popped a gummy bear in his mouth. Then he ate one more.

The store itself was pretty empty that day. Seeing no one else around, Sam reached for another piece of candy. He had just eaten another piece of candy when a man in an apron with the word "manager" written on a tag on it approached him.

"Hey!" The man said, an angry look on his face.

Sam looked up at him.

"Hi?"

"What's wrong with you? Are you retarded or something? I see you in here every week and every week you do the same thing! You can't eat the candy before you pay for it!"

Sam was confused.

"I don't understand, isn't all this -"

"What's so hard to understand? Pay before you eat!"

Sam's eyes got wide.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I thought these were free! I didn't know! I'll pay for it, I have money in -" Sam stopped, suddenly overcome with pain.

He'd been having cramps all morning. They were some of the worst he'd ever felt, but now it was taking all of his willpower not to collapse. He was in so much pain that he didn't notice that the expression on the manager's face had changed from angry to worried.

"Uh, are you alright there, kid?" The man asked.

Sam didn't hear him. Besides the pain, he was starting to get nervous.

Ever since he'd gotten pregnant the second time, he'd noticed that he was panicking a lot more. There was the blackout, and now he was starting to have a full-on panic attack at the store. Not good. He tried to steady himself by taking deep breaths, but it wasn't working.

"Dude, you alright?" A teenage customer approached Sam and the manager. He looked Sam over. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Sam took another deep breath, but right then, his cramps got worse. He wasn't even sure how that was possible, but he felt like he was being stabbed. Sam doubled over, holding his stomach and breathing heavily.

The teenage boy's father came over, seeing the situation.

"Sir?" He asked nicely. "Do you need an ambulance?"

Sam shook his head 'no'. That was the last thing he wanted.

The manager wrapped an arm around Sam's waist to help him stand.

"I think you need to sit down, son," He said, leading Sam over towards the break room.

Once they were in the room, the manager helped Sam sit down in a chair, then got him a cup of water. He noticed that Sam was still holding his stomach and panting.

"Kid, you need to calm down," He said, setting the glass down in front of him. "You're having a panic attack."

Sam nodded in agreement, but didn't stop hyperventilating. He felt terrified, like the walls of the room were closing in on him.

"Breathe. Deep breaths." The manager rested a hand on Sam's back. "Come on, you can do it. Relax."

Sam took a deep breath and held it, trying to force himself to calm down. He did feel slightly better, but his stomach still hurt. He groaned in pain.

The manager frowned. "It's gonna be okay."

Sam shook his head, but said nothing.

The manager sighed.

"Is there anyone I can call for you?"

"My wife, Joon," Sam whispered. He took a sip of water and it somehow helped calm him slightly. Then he handed the manager his cell phone.

Sam just closed his eyes, frustrated at the entire situation. He could hear the manager dialing Joon's number, followed by parts of the short conversation that followed.

"Joon will be here in ten minutes," His boss said. after he hung up. "Drink some more water. It'll be okay."

"Okay. I hope so," Sam replied. "I can't take much more of this today."


End file.
